LETTERS 



3 3 I 



SPAIN. 



BY 



DON LEUCA.-DIO DOBLADO. 



SECOND EDITION. 



REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR. 




LONDON: 

HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 



1825, 



6R EKN, PRINTER, LEICESTER-STREET, LEICESTER BQI A.RE. 



PREFACE 



TO THE 



SECOND EDITIO N 



That a work like the present should appear in 
a Second Edition, implies such a reception from 
he Public as demands the most sincere gratitude 
on my part. I am anxious, therefore,, to make the 
only return I have in my power^ by adding, as I 
conceive, some value to the work itself; not, in- 
deed, from any material corrections, but by stamp- 
ing the facts and descriptions which it contains, 
with the character of complete authenticity. The 
readers of Dobladds Letters may be sure that in 
them they have the real Memoirs of the person 
whose name is subscribed to this address. Even 



IV PREFACE. 

the disguise of that name was so contrived, as to 
be a mark of identity. Leucadio being derived from 
a Greek root which means white, the word Doblado 
was added, in allusion to the repetition of my 
family name, translated into Spanish, which my 
countrymen have forced upon us, to avoid the 
difficulty of an orthography and sound, perfectly 
at variance with their language. In short, Do- 
blado and his inseparable friend, the Spanish cler- 
gyman, are but one and the same person; whose 
origin, education, feelings, and early turn of think- 
ing, have been made an introduction to the per- 
sonal observations on his country, which, with a 
deep sense of their kindness, he again lays before 
the British Public. 

JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE, 



Chelsea, June 1st, 1825. 



PREFACE 

TO THE 

FIRST EDITION. 



Some of the following Letters have been printed 
in the New Monthly Magazine. 

The Author would, indeed, be inclined to 
commit the whole collection to the candour of his 
readers without a prefatory address, were it not 
that the plan of his Work absolutely requires some 
explanation. 

The slight mixture of fiction which these Let- 
ters contain, might raise a doubt, whether the 
sketches of Spanish manners, customs, and opi- 



v l P R E F A C E. 

nions, by means of which the Author has en- 
deavoured to pourtray the moral state of his 
country at a period immediately preceding, and in 
part coincident with the French invasion, may not 
be exaggerated by fancy, and coloured with a view 
to mere effect. 

It is chiefly on this account that the Author 
deems it necessary to assure the Public of the 
reality of every circumstance mentioned in his 
book, except the name of Leucadio Doblado. 
These Letters are in effect the faithful memoirs of a 
real Spanish clergyman, as far as his character and 
the events of his life can illustrate the state of the 
country which gave him birth. 

Doblado s Letters are dated from Spain, and, to 
preserve consistency, the Author is supposed to have 
returned thither after a residence of some years in 
England. This is another fictitious circumstance. 
Since the moment when the person disguised under 



PREFACE. 



Vll 



the above name left that beloved country, whose 
religious intolerance has embittered his life — that 
country which, boasting, at this moment, of a free 
constitution, still continues to deprive her children 
of the right to worship God according to their own 
conscience — he has not for a day quitted England, 
the land of his ancestors, and now the country of 
his choice and adoption. 

It is not. however, from pique or resentmen^ 
that the Author has dwelt so long and so warmly 
upon the painful and disgusting picture of Spanish 
bigotry. Spain, " with all her faults," is still and 
shall ever be the object of his love. But since no 
man, within the limits of her territory, can venture 
to lay open the canker which, fostered by religion, 
feeds on the root of her political improvements ; be 
it allowed a self-banished Spaniard to describe the 
sources of such a strange anomaly in the New 
Constitution of Spain, and thus to explain to such 
as may not be unacquainted with his name as a 



Vlll 



PREFACE. 



Spanish writer, the true cause of an absence which 
might otherwise be construed into a dereliction of 
duty, and a desertion of that post which both 
nature and affection marked so decidedly for the 
exertion of his humble talents. 



Chelsea, June 1822. 



TABLE 



OF 

CONTENT S 



LETTER I. 

Mistakes of Travellers. — Townsend's Accuracy. — View of 
Cadiz from the Sea. — Religion blended with Public and Do- 
mestic Life in Spain. — Customs relating to the Host or Eu- 
charist. — Manners and Society at Cadiz. — Passage by Sea to 
Port Saint Mary's. — St. Lucar. — Passage up the Guadalquivir 
to Seville. — Construction and internal Economy of the Houses 
in that Town. — Knocking, and greeting at the Door. — De- 
votion of the People of Seville to the Immaculate Conception 
of the Virgin Mary p. 1 — 22 

LETTER If. 

Difficulty of describing National Characters. — Nobles and 
Plebeians, in Spain. — Purity of Blood. — Tizon de Espana. 
— Grandees. — Hidalgos in Low Life. — Execution of an 
Hidalgo.— Spanish Pride, visible among the Lower Classes. — 
Usual Employment of Day at Seville. — Spanish Politeness. — 
Absence of Jealousy in Modern Times. — Dinner. — Siesta. — 
Public Walks. — Dress of the Spanish Ladies. — Various Uses 
of the Fan. — Character of the Spanish Females . p. 23 — 51 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



LETTER III. 

Eagerness of Free-thinking Spaniards to become acquainted, 
and their quickness in knowing one another. Inclosure of a 
detached Paper, intituled 'A few Facts connected with the 
Formation of the Intellectual and Moral Character of 
Spanish Clergyman . . . . . p. 52 — 8 

Importance of examining the Tendency of Catholicism. — Ac- 
count of two highly devout Roman Catholics. — Auricular 
Confession. — Education of a Spanish Boy. — Evils arising 
from the Celibacy of the Clergy. — Education under the 
Jesuits. — Congregation of Saint Philip Neri. — Exercises of 
Saint Ignatius. — Aristotelic Philosophy taught by the Domi- 
nicans.— Feyjoo's Works. — Spanish Universities andColleges, 
called Mayores. — Indirect Influence of the Inquisition on the 
State of Knowledge in Spain. — Mental Struggles of a young- 
Spaniard on points connected with the established System of 
Faith. — Impressions produced by the Ceremony of Catholic 
Ordination. — Unity and Consistency of the Catholic System. — 
Train of Thought and Feeling leading to the final Rejection 
of Catholicism p. 58— 118 

LETTER IV. 

On Bull-fights, and other National Customs connected with those 
Amusements. p. 119 — 140 

LETTER V. 

A Journey to Osuna and Olvera. — A Spanish Country Inn. — 
The Play El Diablo Predicador — Souls in Purgatory begged 
for : Lottery of Purgatory.— Character of Two Nuns at Osuna. 

A Country Vicar. — Customs at Olvera. — Tapadas, or veiled 

Females A Dance.— The Riberas' Lamp . p. 141—170 

LETTER VI. 



The Yellow Fever at Seville, in 1800.— Spiritual Methods of 
stopping its progress — Alcala de Guadaiia escapes the infec- 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



tion. — Two Spanish Missionaries. — r i he Virgin of the Eagle. 
— The Daivti Rosary. — State of Seville alter the disappear- 
ance of the Disorder p. 171 — 190 

LETTER VT1. 

Monks and Friars. — Instances of gross misconduct among them. 
— Their Influence. — Brother Sebastian and Charles III. — 
The Carthusians. — Hermits near Cordova. . p. 191 — 210 

LETTER VIII. 

Nuns. — Motives for taking the Veil. — Circumstances attending 
that Ceremony. — Account of a young Lady compelled by her 
Mother to take the Monastic Vows. — Escrupulos, or Religious 
Anxiety. — Spiritual Flirtation. — Nun Doctors. p. 'ill — 228 

LETTER IX. 

Memorandums of some Andalusian Customs and Festivals. — 
Saint Sebastian's Day : Carnival, p. 230.— Ash -Wednesday, 
p. 239— Mid-lent, p. 24 5 —Passion, or Holy Week, p. 245. 
Passion Wednesday, p. 251. — Thursday in the Passion Week, 
p. 252.— Good Friday, p. 258 — Saturday before Easter, p. 264. 
— May Cross, p. 207.— Corpus Christi, p. 268. — Saint John's 
Eve, p. 274. — Saint Bartholomew, p. 277. — Detached Pre- 
judices and Practices, p. 280.— Funerals of Infants and Maids, 
p. 282. — Spanish Christian Names, p. 286. — Christmas, 
p. 288. 

LETTER X. 

A Sketch of the Court of Madrid, in the Reign of Charles the 
Fourth, and the Intrigues connected with the Influence of the 
Prince of the Peace p. 292—320 

LETTER XI. 

Private Life at Madrid,— Pretendientes. — Literary Characters. 

p. 321—343 



XI i 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



LETTER XII. 

Events connected with the beginning of the French Invasion,—- 
The Escurial at the Time of the Arrest of the Prince of 
Asturias. — Revolution at Aranjuez and Madrid. — Massacre of 
the 2d of May, 1808 p. 344— 372 



LETTER XIII. 

State of Spain at the time of the general Rising against the 
French, as observed in a Journey from Madrid to Seville, 
through the Province of Estremadura . . . p. 373 



APPENDIX.— An Account of the Suppression of the Jesuits in 
Spain p. 395 



NOTES . . . . . . . . p. 411 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



LETTER I. 



Seville, May 1798. 

I am inclined to think with you, that a Spaniard, 
who, like myself, has resided many years in Eng- 
land, is, perhaps, the fittest person to write an 
account of life, manners and opinions as they exist 
in this country, and to shew them in the light 
which is most likely to interest an Englishman. 
The most acute and diligent travellers are subject 
to constant mistakes ; and perhaps the more so, 
for what is generally thought a circumstance in 
their favour — a moderate knowledge of foreign 
languages. A traveller who uses only his eyes, 
will confine himself to the description of external 
objects ; and though his narrative may be defi- 
cient in many topics of interest, it will certainly 
be exempt from great and ludicrous blunders. 
The difficulty, which a person, with a smattering 
of the language of the country he is visiting, expe- 

B 



2 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



riences every moment in the endeavour to com- 
municate his own, and catch other men's thoughts, 
often urges him into a sort of mental rashness, 
which leads him to settle many a doubtful point 
for himself, and to forget the unlimited power, I 
should have said tyranny, of usage, in whatever 
relates to language. 

I still recollect the unlucky hit I made on my 
arrival in London, when, anxious beyond measure 
to catch every idiomatic expression, and reading 
the huge inscription of the Cannon Brewery at 
Knightsbridge, as the building had some re- 
semblance to the great cannon-foundry in this 
town, I settled it in my mind that the genuine 
English idiom, for what I should now call casting, 
was no other than brewing cannon. This, how- 
ever, was a mere verbal mistake. Not so that 
which I made when the word nursery stared me 
in the face every five minutes, as in a fine after- 
noon I approached your great metropolis, on the 
western road. Luxury and wealth, said I to my- 
self, in a strain approaching to philosophic indig- 
nation, have at last blunted the best feelings of 
nature among the English. Surely, if I am to judge 
from this endless string of nurseries, the English 
ladies have gone a step beyond the unnatural prac- 
tice of devolving their first maternal duties upon 
domestic hirelings. Here, it seems, the poor help- 
less infants are sent to be kept and suckled in 
crowds, in a decent kind of Foundling- Hospitals. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



3 



You may easily guess that I knew but one signifi- 
cation of the words nursing and nursery. For- 
tunately I was not collecting materials for a book 
of travels during a summer excursion, otherwise 
I should now be enjoying all the honour of the 
originality of my remarks on the customs and 
manners of Old England. 

From similar mistakes I think myself safe enough 
in speaking of my native country ; but I wish I 
could feel equal confidence as to the execution of 
the sketches you desire to obtain from me. I know 
you too well to doubt that my letters will, by some 
chance or other, find their way to some of the 
London Magazines, before they have been long in 
your hands. And only think, I intreat you, how I 
shall fret and fidget under the apprehension that 
some of your pert newspaper writers may raise a 
laugh against me in some of those Suns or Stars, 
which, in spite of intervening seas and mountains, 
can dart a baneful influence, and blast the cha- 
racter of infallibility, as an English scholar, which 
I have acquired since my return to Spain. I have 
so strongly rivetted the admiration of the Irish 
merchants in this place, that, in spite of their ob- 
jection to my not calling tea ta, they submit to my 
decision every intricate question about your pro- 
voking shall and will : and surely it would be no 
small disparagement, in this land of proud Dons, to 
be posted up in a London paper as a murderer of the 
Kings English. How fortunate was our famous 

b 2 



4 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Spanish traveller, my relative, Espriella* (for you 
know that there exists a family connexion between 
us by my mothers side) to find one of the best 
writers in England, willing to translate his letters. 
But since you will not allow me to write in my 
own language, and since, to say the truth, I feel a 
pleasure in using that which reminds me of the 
dear land which has been my second home — the 
land where I drew my first breath of liberty — the 
land which taught me how to retrieve, though im- 
perfectly and with pain, the time which, under the 
influence of ignorance and superstition, I had lost 
in early youth — I will not delay a task which, 
should circumstances allow me to complete it, I 
intend as a token of friendship to you, and of grati- 
tude and love to your country. 

Few travellers are equal to your countryman, 
Mr. Townsend, in the truth and liveliness of his 
descriptions, as well as in the mass of useful in- 
formation and depth of remark with which he has 
presented the public^. It would be impossible 
for any but a native Spaniard to add to the col- 
lection of traits descriptive of the national character, 
which animates his narrative ; and I must confess 
that he has rather confined me in the selection of 
my topics. He has, indeed, fallen into such mis- 
takes and inaccuracies, as nothing short of perfect 
familiarity with a country can prevent. But I 

* See Espriella's " Letters from England." 
•fj He visited Spain in the years 1786 and 1787. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



5 



may safely recommend him to you as a guide for 
a fuller acquaintance with the places whose inha- 
bitants I intend to make the chief subject of my 
letters. But that I may not lay upon you the 
necessity of a constant reference, I shall begin by 
providing your fancy with a " local habitation" for 
the people whose habits and modes of thinking I 
will forthwith attempt to pourtray. 

The view of Cadiz from the sea, as, in a fine 
day, you approach its magnificent harbour, is 
one of the most attractive beauty. The strong 
deep light of a southern sky, reflected from the lofty 
buildings of white free stone, which face the bay, 
rivets the eye of the navigator from the very verge 
of the horizon. The sea actually washes the ram- 
parts, except where, on the opposite side of the 
town, it is divided by a narrow neck of land, which 
joins Cadiz to the neighbouring continent. When, 
therefore, you begin to discover the upper part of 
the buildings, and the white pinnacles of glazed 
earthenware, resembling china, that ornament the 
parapets with which their flat roofs are crowned; 
the airy structure, melting at times into the distant 
glare of the waves, is more like a pleasing delusion — 
a kind of Fata Morgana — than the lofty, uniform 
massive buildings which, rising gradually before 
the vessel, bring you back, however unwilling, to 
the dull realities of life. After landing on a crowded 
quay, you are led the whole depth of the ramparts 
along a dark vaulted passage, at the farthest end 



6 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



of which, new-comers must submit to the scrutiny 
of the inferior custom-house officers. Eighteen- 
pence slipped into their hands with the keys of 
your trunks, will spare you the vexation of seeing 
your clothes and linen scattered about in the utmost 
disorder. 

I forgot to tell you, that scarcely does a boat 
with passengers approach the landing-stairs of the 
quay, when three or four Gallegos, (natives of the 
province of Galicia) who are the only porters in this 
town, will take a fearful leap into the boat, and 
begin a scuffle, which ends by the stronger seizing 
upon the luggage. The successful champion be- 
comes your guide through the town to the place 
where you wish to take up your abode. As only 
two gates are used as a thoroughfare — the sea-gate, 
Puerto, de la Mar, and the land-gate, Puerta de 
Tierra — those who come by water are obliged to 
cross the great Market — a place not unlike Co vent 
Garden, where the country people expose all sorts 
of vegetables and fruits for sale. Fish is also sold 
at this place, where you see it laid out upon the 
pavement in the same state as it was taken out of 
the net. The noise and din of this market are 
absolutely intolerable. All classes of Spaniards, 
not excluding the ladies, are rather loud and 
boisterous in their speech. But here is a conten- 
tion between three or four hundred peasants, who 
shall make his harsh and guttural voice be upper- 
most, to inform the passengers of the price and 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



7 



quality of his goods. In a word, the noise is such 
as will astound any one, who has not lived for some 
years near Cornhill or Temple Bar. 

Religion, or, if you please, superstition, is so 
intimately blended with the whole system of public 
and domestic life in Spain, that I fear I shall tire 
you with the perpetual recurrence of that subject. 
I am already compelled, by an involuntary train of 
ideas, to enter upon that endless topic. If, how- 
ever, you wish to become thoroughly acquainted 
with the national character of my country, you 
must learn the character of the national religion. 
The influence of religion in Spain is boundless. It 
divides the whole population into two comprehen- 
sive classes, bigots and dissemblers. Do not, how- 
ever, mistake me. I am very far from wishing to 
libel my countrymen. If I use these invidious 
words, it is not that I believe every Spaniard either 
a downright bigot or a hypocrite: yet I cannot 
shut my eyes to the melancnoly fact, that the 
system under which we live must unavoidably 
give, even to the best among us, a taint of one 
of those vices. Where the law threatens every 
dissenter from such an encroaching system of 
divinity as that of the Church of Rome, with death 
and infamy — where every individual is not only 
invited, but enjoined, at the peril of both body and 
soul, to assist in enforcing that law ; must not an 
undue and tyrannical influence accrue to the be- 
lieving party ? Are not such as disbelieve in secret, 



8 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



condemned to a life of degrading deference, or of 
heart-burning silence ? Silence, did I say ? No ; 
every day, every hour, renews the necessity of ex- 
plicitly declaring yourself what you are not. The 
most contemptible individual may, at pleasure, 
force out a lie from an honestly proud bosom. 

I must not, however, keep you any longer in 
suspense as to the origin of this flight — this un- 
prepared digression from the plain narrative I had 
begun. You know me well enough to believe that 
after a long residence in England, my landing at 
Cadiz, instead of cheering my heart at the sight of 
my native country, would naturally produce a 
mixed sensation, in which pain and gloominess 
must have had the ascendant. I had enjoyed the 
blessings of liberty for several years ; and now, alas ! 
I perceived that I had been irresistibly drawn back 
by the holiest ties of affection, to stretch out my 
hands to the manacles, and bow my neck to that 
yoke, which had formerly galled my very soul. 
The convent of San Juan de Dios — (laugh, my dear 
friend, if you will: at what you call my mona- 
chophobia ; you may do so, who have never lived 
within range of any of these European jfingl^ 
where lurks every thing that is hideous and ve- 
nomous) — well, then, San Juan de Dios is the 
first remarkable object that meets the eye upon en- 
tering Cadiz by the sea-gate. A single glance at 
the convent had awakened the strongest and most 
rooted aversions of my heart, when just as I was 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



walking into the nearest street to avoid the crowd, 
the well-remembered sound of a hand-bell made me 
instantly aware that, unless pretending not to hear 
it, I could retrace my steps, and turn another cor- 
ner, I should be obliged to kneel in the mud till a 
priest, who was carrying the consecrated wafer to 
a dying person, had moved slowly in his sedan- 
chair from the farthest end of the street to the 
place where I began to hear the bell. 

The rule on these occasions, is expressed in a 
proverbial saying — al Hey, en viendolo ; a Dios, en 
oyendolo — which, after supplying its elliptical form, 
means that external homage is due to the king upon 
seeing him : and to God — i. e. the host, preceded 
by its never-failing appendage, the bell — -the very 
moment you hear him. I must add, as a previous 
explanation of what is to follow, that God and the 
king are so coupled in the language of this country, 
that the same title of Majesty is applied to both. 
You hear, from the pulpit, the duties that men 
owe to both Majesties; and a foreigner is often 
surprised at the hopes expressed by the Spaniards, 
that his Majesty will be pleased to grant them life 
and health for some years more. I must add a 
verv ludicrous circumstance arising from this 
absurd form of speech. When the priest, attended 
bv the clerk, and surrounded by eight or ten people, 
bearing lighted flambeaus, has broken into the 
chamber of the dying person, and gone through 
a form of prayer, half Latin, half Spanish, which 



10 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



lasts for about twenty minutes, one of the wafers is 
taken out of a little gold casket, and put into the 
mouth of the patient as he lies in bed. To swallow 
the wafer without the loss of any particle — which, 
according to the Council of Trent, (and I fully 
agree with the fathers) contains the same Divine 
person as the whole — is an operation of some diffi- 
culty. To obviate, therefore, the impropriety of 
lodging a sacred atom, as it might easily happen, 
in a bad tooth, the clerk comes forth with a glass 
of water, and in a firm and loud voice asks the 
sick person, " Is his Majesty gone down _?"* The 
answer enables the learned clerk to decide whether 
the passage is to be expedited by means of his 
cooling draught. 

But I must return to my Gaikgo, and myself. 
No sooner had I called him back, as if I had sud- 
denly changed my mind as to the direction in 
which we were to go, than with a most determined 
tone he said " Dios — Su Magestad" Pretending 
not to hear, I turned sharply round, and was now 
making my retreat — but it would not do. Fired 
with holy zeal, he raised his harsh voice, and in 
the barbarous accent of his province, repeated 
three or four times, " Dios — Su Magestad 
adding, with an oath, u This man is a heretic !" 
There was no resisting that dreadful word : it 
pinned me to the ground. I took out my pocket- 



* The Spanish words are Ha pasado su Magestad ? 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



handkerchief, and laying it on the least dirty part 
of the pavement^ knelt upon it — not indeed to pray ; 
but while, as another act of conformity to the 
custom of the country, I was beating my breast 
with my clenched right hand, as gently as it could 
be done without offence — to curse the hour when 
I had submitted thus to degrade myself, and trem- 
ble at the mere suspicion of a being little removed 
from the four-footed animals, whom it was his oc- 
cupation to relieve of their burdens. 

In the more populous towns of Spain, these 
unpleasant meetings are frequent. Nor are you 
free from being disturbed by the holy bell in the 
most retired part of your house. Its sound operates 
like magic upon the Spaniards. In the midst of a 
gay, noisy party, the word — ee Su Magestad" — 
will bring every one upon his knees until the tink- 
ling dies in the distance. Are you at dinner? — 
you must leave the table. In bed ? — you must, at 
least, sit up. But the most preposterous effect "of 
this custom is to be seen at the theatres. On the 
approach of the host to any military guard, the 
drum beats, the men are drawn out, and as soon as 
the priest can be seen, they bend the right knee, 
and invert the firelocks, placing the point of the 
bayonet on the ground. As an officer's guard is 
always stationed at the door of a Spanish theatre, I 
have often laughed in my sleeve at the effect of the 
chamade both upon the actors and the company. 
" Diosy DiosJ" resounds from all parts of the 



12 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



house, and every one falls that moment upon his 
knees. The actors' ranting, or the rattling of the 
castanets in the fandango, is hushed for a few 
minutes, till the sound of the bell growing fainter 
and fainter, the amusement is resumed, and the 
devout performers are once more upon their legs, 
anxious to make amends for the interruption. So 
powerful is the effect of early habit, that I had 
been for some weeks in London before I could 
hear the postman's bell in the evening, without 
feeling instinctively inclined to perform a due 
genuflection. 

Cadiz, though fast declining from the wealth and 
splendour to which she had reached during her 
exclusive privilege to trade with the Colonies of 
South America, is still one of the few towns of 
Spain, which, for refinement, can be compared 
with some of the second rate in England. The 
people are hospitable and cheerful. The women, 
without being at all beautiful, are really fascinating. 
Some of the Tertulias, or evening parties, which a 
simple introduction to the lady of the house entitles 
any one to attend daily, are very lively and agree- 
able. No stiffness of etiquette prevails : you may 
drop in when you like, and leave the room when 
it suits you. The young ladies, however, will soon 
either find out, or imagine, the house and company 
to which you give the preference ; and a week's 
acquaintance will lay you open to a great deal of 
good-natured bantering upon the cause of your 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



13 



short calls. Singing to the guitar, or the piano, 
is a very common resource at these meetings. But 
the musical acquirements of the Spanish ladies 
cannot bear the most distant comparison with those 
of the female amateurs in London. In singing, 
however, they possess one great advantage — that of 
opening the mouth — which your English Misses 
seem to consider as a great breach of propriety. 

The inhabitants of Cadiz, being confined to the 
rock on which their city is built, have made the 
towns of Chiclana, Puerto Real, and Port St. 
Mary's, their places of resort, especially in the 
summer. The passage, by water, to Port St. 
Mary's, is, upon an average, of about an hour and 
a half, and the intercourse between the two places, 
nearly as constant as between a large city and its 
suburbs. Boats full of passengers are incessantly 
crossing from day-break till sun-set. This passage 
is not, however, without danger in case of a strong 
wind from the east, in summer, or of rough weather, 
in winter. At the mouth of the Guadalete, a river 
that runs into the bay of Cadiz, by Port St. Mary's, 
there are extensive banks of shifting sands, which 
every year prove fatal to many. The passage-boats 
are often excessively crowded with people of all 
descriptions. The Spaniards, however, are not so 
shy of strangers as I have generally found your 
countrymen. Place any two of them, male or 
female, by the merest chance, together, and they 
will immediately enter into some conversation. 



14 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



The absolute disregard to a stranger, which custom 
has established in England, would be taken for an 
insult in any part of Spain ; consequently little 
gravity is preserved in these aquatic excursions. 

In fine weather, when the female part of the 
company are not troubled with fear or sickness, 
the passengers indulge in a boisterous sort of mirth, 
which is congenial to Andalusians of all classes. 
It is known by the old Spanish word Arana, 
pronounced with the Southern aspirate, as if 
written Haranna. I do not know whether I shall 
be able to convey a notion of this kind of amuse- 
ment. It admits of no liberties of action, while 
every allowance is made for words which do not 
amount to gross indecency. It is — if I may use 
the expression— a conversational row ; or, to 
indulge a more strange assemblage of ideas, the 
Arana is to conversation, what romping is to 
walking arm in arm. In the midst, however, of 
hoarse laugh and loud shouting, as soon as the 
boat reaches the shoals, the steersman, raising his 
voice with a gravity becoming a parish-clerk, 
addresses himself to the company in words amount- 
ing to these — ft Let us pray for the souls of all that 
have perished in this place." The pious address 
of the boatman has a striking effect upon the 
company : for one or two minutes every one 
mutters a private prayer, whilst a sailor-boy goes 
round collecting a few copper coins from the 
passengers, which are religiously spent in pro- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



15 



curing masses for the souls in purgatory. This 
ceremony being over, the riot is resumed with 
unabated spirit, till the very point of landing. 

I went by land to St. Lucar, a town of some 
wealth and consequence at the mouth of the 
Guadalquivir, or Bcetis, where this river is lost in 
the sea through a channel of more than a mile in 
breadth. The passage to Seville, of about twenty 
Spanish leagues up the river, is tedious ; but I had 
often performed it, in early youth, with great 
pleasure, and I now quite forgot the change which 
twenty years must have made upon my feelings. 
No Spanish conveyance is either comfortable or 
expeditious. The St. Lucar boats are clumsy and 
heavy, without a single accommodation for passen- 
gers. Half of the hold is covered with hatches, 
but so low, . that one cannot stand upright under 
them. A piece of canvass, loosely let down to 
the bottom of the boat, is the only partition be- 
tween the passengers and the sailors. It would be 
extremely unpleasant for any person, above the 
lower class, to bear the inconveniences of a mixed 
company in one of these boats. Fortunately, it is 
neither difficult nor expensive to obtain the ex- 
clusive hire of one. You must submit, however, at 
the time of embarkation, to the disagreeable cir- 
cumstance of riding on a mans shoulders from the 
water s edge to a little skiff, which, from the flat- 
ness of the shore, lies waiting for the passengers at 
the distance of fifteen or twenty yards. 



IG 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



The country, on both sides of the river, is for the 
most part, flat and desolate. The eye roves in vain 
over vast plains of alluvial ground in search of 
some marks of human habitation. Herds of black 
cattle, and large flocks of sheep, are seen on two 
considerable islands formed by different branches 
of the river. The fierce Andalusian bulls, kept by 
themselves in large enclosures, where, with a view 
to their appearance on the arena, they are made 
more savage by solitude : are seen straggling here 
and there down to the brink of the river, tossing 
their shaggy heads, and pawing the ground on the 
approach of the boat. 

The windings of the river, and the growing 
shallows, which obstruct its channel, oblige the 
boats to wait for the tide, except when there is a 
strong wind from the south. After two tedious 
days, and two uucomfortable nights, I found myself 
under the Torre del Oro, a large octagon tower of 
great antiquity, and generally supposed to have 
been built by Julius Caesar, which stands by the 
mole or quay of the capital of Andalusia, my na- 
tive, and by me, long deserted town. Townsend 
will acquaint you with its situation, its general 
aspect, and the remarkable buildings, which are 
the boast of the Sevillanos. My task will be con- 
fined to the description of such peculiarities of the 
country as he did not see, or which must have 
escaped his notice. 

The eastern custom of building houses on the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



17 



four sides of an open area is so general in An- 
dalusia, that, till my first journey to Madrid, I 
confess, I was perfectly at a loss to conceive a ha- 
bitable dwelling in any other shape. The houses 
are generally two stories high, with a gallery, or 
corrector, which,, as the name implies, runs along 
the four, or at least the three sides of the Patio, 
or central square, affording an external communi- 
cation between the rooms above stairs, and forming 
a covered walk over the doors of the ground- floor 
apartments. These two suites of rooms are a 
counterpart to each other, being alternately in- 
habited or deserted in the seasons of winter and 
summer. About the middle of October every 
house in Seville is in a complete bustle for two or 
three days. The lower apartments are stripped of 
their furniture, and every chair and table — nay, 
the kitchen vestal, with all her laboratory — are 
ordered off to winter quarters. This change of 
habitation, together with mats laid over the brick- 
floors, thicker and warmer than those used in sum- 
mer, is all the provision against cold, which is 
made in this country. A flat and open brass pan 
of about two feet diameter, raised a few inches 
from the ground by a round wooden frame, on 
which, those who sit near it, may rest their feet 
is used to burn charcoal made of brush- wood, 
which the natives call cisco. The fumes of char- 
coal are injurious to health ; but such is the ef- 
fect of habit, that the natives are seldom aware of 

c 



18 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



any inconvenience arising from the choking smell 
of their brasiers. 

The precautions against heat, however, are nu- 
merous. About the latter end of May the whole 
population moves down stairs. A thick awning, 
which draws and undraws my means of ropes and 
pullies, is stretched over the central square, on a 
level with the roof of the house. The window- 
shutters are nearly closed from morning till sun-set, 
admitting just light enough to see one another, 
provided the eyes have not lately been exposed to 
the glare of the streets. The floors are washed 
every morning, that the evaporation of the water 
imbibed by the bricks, may abate the heat of the 
air. A very light mat, made of a delicate sort of 
rush, and dyed with a variety of colours, is used 
instead of a carpet. The Patio, or square, is or- 
namented with flower-pots, especially round a jet 
oTeau, which in most houses occupies its centre. 
During the hot season the ladies sit and receive 
their friends in the Patio. The street-doors are 
generally open ; but invariably so from sunset till 
eleven or twelve in the night. Three or four very 
large glass lamps are hung in a line from the street- 
door to the opposite end of the Patio ; and, as in 
most houses, those who meet at night for a Ter- 
tulia, are visible from the streets, the town presents 
a very pretty and animated scene till near mid- 
night. The poorer class of people, to avoid the 
intolerable heat of their habitations, pass a great 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



19 



part of the night in conversation at their doors ; 
while persons of all descriptions are moving about 
till late, either to see their friends, or to enjoy the 
cool air in the public walks. 

This gay scene vanishes, however, on the ap- 
proach of winter. The people retreat to the 
upper floors ; the ill-lighted streets are deserted 
at the close of day, and become so danger- 
ous from robbers, that few but the young and 
adventurous retire home from the Tertulia with- 
out being attended by a servant, sometimes bear- 
ing a lighted torch, The free access to every 
house, which prevails in summer, is now checked 
by the caution of the inhabitants. The entrance 
to the houses lies through a passage with two doors, 
one to the street, and another called the middle- 
door (for there is another at the top of the stairs) 
which opens into the Patio. This passage is 
called Zagaan — a pure Arabic word, which means, 
I believe, a porch. The middle-door is generally 
shut in the day-time : the outer one is never closed 
but at night. Whoever wants to be admitted 
must knock at the middle-door, and be prepared 
to answer a question, which, as it presents one of 
those little peculiarities which you are so fond of 
hearing, I shall not consider as unworthy of a 
place in my narrative. 

The knock at the door, which, by-the-by, must 
be single, and by no means loud — in fact, a trades- 
man's knock in London — is answered with a Who 

c 2 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



is there ? To this question the stranger replies, 
" Peaceful people/' Gente de paz — and the door is 
opened without farther enquiries. Peasants and 
beggars call out at the door, " Hail, spotless 
Mary !" Ave, Maria purisima ! The answer, in 
that case, is given from within in the words Sin 
pecado concebida : " Conceived without sin." This 
custom is a remnant of the fierce controversy, 
which existed about three hundred years ago, 
between the Franciscan and the Dominican friars, 
whether the Virgin Mary had or not been subject 
to the penal consequences of original sin. The 
Dominicans were not willing to grant any exemp- 
tion ; while the Franciscans contended for the 
propriety of such a privilege. The Spaniards, and 
especially the Sevillians, with their characteristic 
gallantry, stood for the honour of our Lady, and 
embraced the latter opinion so warmly, that they 
turned the watch-word of their party into the 
form of address, which is still so prevalent in Anda- 
lusia. During the heat of the dispute, and before 
the Dominicans had been silenced by the autho- 
rity of the Pope, the people of Seville began to 
assemble at various churches, and, sallying forth 
with an emblematical picture of the sinless Mary, 
set upon a sort of standard surmounted by a cross, 
paraded the city in different directions, singing a 
hymn to the Immaculate Conception, and repeating 
aloud their beads or rosary. These processions 
have continued to our times, and constitute one of 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



21 



the nightly nuisances of this place. Though con- 
fined at present to the lower classes, those that 
join in them assume that characteristic importance 
and overbearing spirit, which attaches to the most 
insignificant religious associations in this country. 
Wherever one of these shabby processions presents 
itself to the public, it takes up the street from side 
to side, stopping the passengers, and expecting 
them to stand uncovered in all kinds of weather, 
till the standard is gone by. Their awkward and 
heavy banners are called, at Seville, Sinpecados, 
that is, " sinless," from the theological opinion in 
support of which they were raised. 

The Spanish government, under Charles III., 
shewed the most ludicrous eagerness to have the 
sinless purity of the Virgin Mary added by the 
Pope to the articles of the Roman Catholic faith. 
The court of Rome, however, with the cautious 
spirit which has at all times guided its spiritual 
politics, endeavoured to keep clear from a stretch 
of authority, which, even some of their own 
divines would be ready to question ; but splitting, 
as it were, the difference with theological precision, 
the censures of the church were levelled against 
such as should have the boldness to assert that 
the Virgin Mary had derived any taint from " her 
great ancestor and, having personified the Imma- 
culate Conception, it was declared, that the Spanish 
dominions in Europe and America were under the 
protecting influence of that mysterious event. 



22 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



This declaration diffused universal joy over the 
whole nation. It was celebrated with public re- 
joicings on both sides of the Atlantic. The king 
instituted an order distinguished by the emblem of 
the Immaculate Conception — a woman dressed in 
white and blue ; and a law was enacted, requiring 
a declaration, upon oath, of a firm belief in the 
Imrnaculate Conception, from every individual, pre- 
vious to his taking any degree at the universities, 
or being admitted into any of the corporations, 
civil and religious, which abound in Spain. This 
oath is administered even to mechanics upon their 
being made free of a Guilds 

Here, however, I must break off, for fear of 
making this packet too large for the confidential 
conveyance, to which alone I could trust it without 
great risk of finishing my task in one of the cells 
of the Holy Inquisition. I will not fail, however, 
to resume my subject as soon as circumstances 
permit me. 

* See Note A, at the end of the Volume. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



23 



LETTER II. 

Seville — 1798. 

TO A. D. C. ESQ,. 

My Dear Sir — Your letter, acquainting me with 

Lady — 's desire that you should take an active 

part in our correspondence on Spain, has increased 
my hopes of carrying on a work, which I feared 
would soon grow no less tiresome to our friend than 
to me. Objects which blend themselves with our 
daily habits are most apt to elude our observation ; 
and will, like some dreams, fleet away through the 
mind, unless an accidental word or thought should 
set attention on the fast-fading track of their course. 
Nothing, therefore, can be of greater use to me 
than your queries, or help me so much as your ob- 
servations. 

You must excuse, however, my declining to give 
you a sketch of the national character of the Spa- 
niards. I have always considered such descriptions 
as absolutely unmeaning — -a mere assemblage of 
antitheses, where good and bad qualities are con- 
trasted for effect, and with little foundation in na- 



24 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



ture. No man's powers of observation can be, at 
once, so accurate and extensive, so minute and ge- 
neralizing, as to be capable of embodying the pe- 
culiar features of millions into an abstract being:, 
which shall contain traces of them all. Yet this 
is what most travellers attempt after a few weeks 
residence — what we are accustomed to expect from 
the time that a Geographical Grammar is first put 
into our hands. I shall not, therefore, attempt either 
abstraction or classification, but endeavour to col- 
lect as many facts as may enable others to perceive 
the general tendency of the civil and religious state 
of my country, and to judge of its influence on the 
improvement or degradation of this portion of man- 
kind, independently of the endless modifications 
which arise from the circumstances, external and 
internal^ of every individual. I will not overlook, 
however, the great divisions of society, and shall 
therefore acquaint you with the chief sources of 
distinction which both law and custom have esta- 
blished among us. 

The most comprehensive division of the people 
of Spain is that of nobles and plebeians. But I must 
caution you against a mistaken notion which these 
words are apt to convey to an Englishman. In 
Spain, any person whose family, either by imme- 
morial prescription, or by the king's patent, is en- 
titled to exemption from some burdens, and to the 
enjoyment of certain privileges, belongs to the class 
of nobility. It appears to me that this distinction • 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



25 



originated in the allotment of a certain portion of 
ground in towns conquered from the Moors. In 
some patents of nobility — I cannot say whether 
they are all alike — the king, after an enumeration 
of the privileges and exemptions to which he raises 
the family, adds the general clause, that they shall 
be considered in all respects, as Hidalgos de casa y 
solar concido — " Hidalgos , i.e. nobles (for the words 
are become synonymous) of a known family and 
ground-plot" Many of the exemptions attached to 
this class of Franklins, or inferior nobility, have 
been withdrawn in our times, not, however, with- 
out a distinct recognition of the rank of such as 
could claim them before the amendment of the law. 
But still a Spanish gentleman, or Cavallero — a name 
which expresses the privileged gentry in all its nu- 
merous and undefined gradations — cannot be bal- 
lotted for the militia ; and none but an Hidalgo can 
enter the army as a cadet. In the routine of promo- 
tion, ten cadets, I believe, must receive a commission 
before a serjeant can have his turn — and even that 
is often passed over. Such as are fortunate enough to 
be raised from the ranks can seldom escape the re- 
serve and slight of their prouder fellow-officers ; 
and the common appellation of Pinos, C( pine-trees" 
— alluding, probably, to the height required in a 
serjeant, like that offreedman, among the Romans, 
implies a stain which the first situations in the army 
cannot completely obliterate. 

Noblesse, as I shall call it, to avoid an equivocal 



26 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN . 



term, descends from the father to all his male chil- 
dren, for ever. But though a female cannot trans- 
mit this privilege to her issue, her being the daughter 
of an Hidalgo is of absolute necessity to constitute 
what, in the language of the country, is called, u a 
nobleman on four sides" — noble de quatro costados : 
that is, a man whose parents, their parents, and 
their parents' parents, belonged to the privileged 
class. None but these square noblemen can receive 
the order of knighthood. But we are fallen on de- 
generate times, and I could name many a knight in 
this town who has been furnished with more than 
one corner hy the dexterity of the notaries, who act 
as secretaries in collecting and drawing up the 
proofs and documents required on these occasions. 

There exists another distinction of blood, which, 
I think, is peculiar to Spain, and to which the mass 
of the people are so blindly attached, that the mean- 
est peasant looks upon the want of it as a source of 
misery and degradation, which he is doomed to 
transmit to his latest posterity. The least mixture 
of African, Indian, Moorish, or Jewish blood, taints 
a whole family to the most distant generation. Nor 
does the knowledge of such a fact die away in the 
course of years, or become unnoticed from the 
obscurity and humbleness of the parties. Not a 
child in this populous city is ignorant that a family, 
who, beyond the memory of man have kept a con- 
fectioner's shop in the central part of the town, had 
one of their ancestors punished by the Inquisition for 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



27 



a relapse into Judaism. I well recollect how, when a 
boy, I often passed that way, scarcely venturing to 
cast a side glance on a pretty young woman who 
constantly attended the shop, for fear, as I said to 
myself, of shaming her. A person free from tainted 
blood is defined by law, u an old Christian, clean 
from all bad race and stain," Christiano viejo, limpio 
de toda mala raza, y mancha. The severity of this 
law, or rather of the public opinion enforcing it, 
shuts out its victims from every employment in 
church or state, and excludes them even from the 
Fraternities, or religious associations, which are 
otherwise open to persons of the lowest ranks. I 
verily believe, that were St. Peter a Spaniard, he 
would either deny admittance into heaven to peo- 
ple of tainted blood, or send them to a retired 
corner, where they might not offend the eyes of 
the old Christians. 

But alas ! what has been said of laws — and I be- 
lieve it true in most countries, ancient and modern, 
except England — that they are like cobwebs, which 
entrap the weak, and yield to the strong and bold, 
is equally, and perhaps more generally applicable 
to public opinion. It is a fact, that many of the 
grandees, and the titled noblesse of this country, 
derive a large portion of their blood from Jews and 
Moriscoes. Their pedigree has been traced up to 
those cankered branches, in a manuscript book, 
which neither the threats of Government, nor the 
terrors of the Inquisition, have been able to sup- 



28 



LETTERS fROM SPAIN. 



press completely. It is called Tizon de Espana — 
(e the Brand of Spain." But wealth and power have 
set opinion at defiance ; and while a poor indus- 
trious man, humbled by feelings not unlike those 
of an Indian Paria, will hardly venture to salute his 
neighbour, because, forsooth, his fourth or fifth 
ancestor fell into the hands of the Inquisition for 
declining to eat pork — the proud grandee, perhaps a 
nearer descendant of the Patriarchs, will think him- 
self degraded by marrying the first gentlewoman in 
the kingdom, unless she brings him a hat, in addi- 
tion to the six or eight which he may be already 
entitled to wear before the king. But this requires 
some explanation. 

The highest privilege of a grandee is that of co- 
vering his head before the king. Hence, by two or 
more hats in a family, it is meant that it has a right, 
by inheritance, to as many titles of grandeeship. 
Pride having confined the grandees to intermar- 
riages in their own caste, and the estates and titles 
being inheritable by females, an enormous accumu- 
lation of property and honours has been made in a 
few hands. The chief aim of every family is con- 
stantly to increase this preposterous accumulation. 
Their children are married, by dispensation, in their 
infancy, to some great heir or heiress ; and such is 
the m ultitude of family names and titles which every 
grandee claims and uses, that if you should look 
into a simple passport given by the Spanish Am- 
bassador in London, when he happens to be a mem- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



29 



ber of the ancient Spanish families, you will find 
the whole first page of a large foolscap sheet, em- 
ployed merely to tell you who the great man is 
whose signature is to close the whole. As far as 
vanity alone is concerned, this ambitious display of 
rank and parentage, might, at this time of day, be 
dismissed with a smile. But there lurks a more 
serious evil in the absurd and invidious system so 
studiously preserved by our first nobility. Sur- 
rounded by their own dependents, and avoided by 
the gentry, who are seldom disposed for an inter- 
course in which a sense of inferiority prevails, few 
of the grandees are exempt from the natural conse- . 
quences of such a life — gross ignorance, intolerable j 
conceit, and sometimes, though seldom, a strong 
dose of vulgarity. I would, however, be just, and 
by no means tax individuals with every vice of the 
class. But I believe I speak the prevalent sense of 
the country upon this point. The grandees have 
degraded themselves by their slavish behaviour at 
Court, and incurred great odium by their intolerable 
airs abroad. They have ruined their estates by mis- 
management and extravagance, and impoverished 
the country by the neglect of their immense pos- 
sessions. Should there be a revolution in Spain, 
wounded pride, and party spirit, would deny them 
the proper share of power in the constitution, to 
which their lands, their ancient rights, and their 
remaining influence entitle them. Thus excluded 
from their chief and peculiar duty of keeping the 



30 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



balance of power between the throne and the peo-* 
pie, the Spanish grandees will remain a heavy bur- 
then on the nation ; while, either fearing for their 
overgrown privileges, or impatient under reforms 
which must fall chiefly on them and the clergy, 
they will always be inclined to join the crown in 
restoring the abuses of arbitrary government. 

Would to Heaven that an opportunity presented 
itself for re-modelling our constitution after the 
only political system which has been sanctioned 
by the experience of ages — I mean your own. We 
have nearly the same elements in existence ; and 
low and degraded as we are by the baneful in- 
fluence of despotism, we might yet by a proper 
combination of our political forces, lay down the 
basis of a permanent and improvable free consti- 
tution. But I greatly fear that we have been too 
long in chains, to make the best use of the first 
moments of liberty. Perhaps the crown, as well 
as the classes of grandees and bishops, will be suf- 
fered to exist, from want of power in the popular 
party ; but they will be made worse than useless 
through neglect and jealousy. I am neither what 
you call a tory nor a bigot ; nor am I inditing a 
prophetic elegy on the diminished glories of crowns, 
coronets and mitres. A levelling spirit I detest 
indeed, and from my heart do I abhor every sort of 
spoliation. Many years, however, must pass, and 
strange events take place, before any such evils 
can threaten this country. Spanish despotism is 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



31 



not of that insulting and irritating nature which 
drives a whole people to madness. It is not the 
despotism of the taskmaster whose lash sows 
vengeance in the hearts of his slaves. It is the 
cautious forecast of the husbandman who mutilates 
the cattle whose strength he fears. The degraded 
animal grows up, unconscious of the injury, and 
after a short training, one might think he comes at 
last to love the yoke. Such, I believe, is our state. 
Taxes, among us, are rather ill-contrived than 
grinding ; and millions of the lower classes are 
not aware of the share they contribute. They all 
love their king, however they may dislike the 
exciseman. Seigneurial rights are hardly in exist- 
ence: and both gentry and peasantry find little to 
remind them of the exorbitant power which the 
improvident and slothful life of the grandees, at 
court, allows to lie dormant and wasting in their 
hands. The majority of the nation are more in- 
clined to despise than to hate them; and though 
few men would lift up a finger to support their 
rights, fewer still would imitate the French in 
carrying fire and sword to their mansions. 

For bishops and their spiritual power Juan 
Espanol* has as greedy and capacious a stomach, 
as- John Bull for roast beaf and ale. One single 
class of people feels galled and restless, and that 
unfortunately neither is, nor can be, numerous in 

* A name denoting the plain unsophisticated Spaniard. 



32 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



this country. The class I mean consists of such as 
are able to perceive the encroachments of tyranny 
on their intellectual rights — whose pride of mind, 
and consciousness of mental strength, cause them 
to groan and fret, daily and hourly, under the neces- 
sity of keeping within the miry and crooked paths 
to which ignorance and superstition have confined 
the active souls of the Spaniards. But these, com- 
pared with the bulk of the nation, are but a mere 
handful. Yet, they may, under favourable circum- 
stances, recruit and augment their forces with the 
ambitious of all classes. They will have, at first, 
to disguise their views, to conceal their favourite 
doctrines, and even to cherish those national preju- 
dices, which, were their real views known, would 
crush them to atoms. The mass of the people may 
acquiesce for a time in the new order of things, 
partly from a vague desire of change and improve- 
ment, partly from the passive political habits which 
a dull and deadening despotism has bred and rooted 
in the course of ages. The army may cast the 
decisive weight of the sword on the popular side of 
the balance, as long as it suits its views. But if 
the church and the great nobility are neglected in 
the distribution of legislative power — if, instead of 
alluring them into the path of liberty with the 
sweet bait of constitutional influence, they are only 
alarmed for their rights and privileges, without a 
hope of compensation, they may be shovelled and 
heaped aside, like a mountain of dead and inert 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. «*3 

sand ; but they will stand, in their massive and 
ponderous indolence, ready to slide down at every 
moment, and bury the small active party below, 
upon the least division of their strength. A house, 
or chamber of peers, composed of grandees in their 
own right —that is, not, as is done at present, by 
the transfer of one of the titles accumulated in the 
same family — of the bishops, and of a certain num- 
ber of law lords regularly chosen from the supreme 
court of judicature (a measure of the greatest im- 
portance to discourage the distinction of blood, 
which is, perhaps, the worst evil in the present 
state of the great Spanish nobility), might, indeed, 
check the work of reformation to a slower pace 
than accords with the natural eagerness of a popular 
party. But the legislative body would possess a 
regulator within itself, which would faithfully mark 
the gradual capacity for improvement in the nation. 
The members of the privileged chamber would 
themselves be improved and enlightened by the 
exercise of constitutional power, and the pervading 
influence of public discussion : while, should they 
be overlooked in any future attempt at a free con- 
stitution, they will, like a diseased and neglected 
limb, spread infection over the whole body, or, at 
last, expose it to the hazard of a bloody and danger- 
ous amputation. But it is time to return to our 
Hidalgos. 

As the Htdalguta branches out through every 

D 

I 



34 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

male whose father enjoys that privilege, Spain is 
overrun with gentry r , who earn their living in the 
meanest employments. The province of Asturias 
having afforded shelter to that small portion of the 
nation which preserved the Spanish name and 
throne against the efforts of the conquering Arabs ; 
there is hardly a native of that mountainous tract, 
who, even at this day, cannot shew a legal title to 
honours and immunities gained by his ancestors, at 
a time when every soldier had either a share in the 
terrirory recovered from the invaders, or was 
rewarded with a perpetual exemption from such 
taxes and services as fell exclusively upon the 
simple* peasantry. The numerous assertors of 
these privileges among the Asturians of the present 
day, lead me to think that in the earliest times of 
the Spanish monarchy every soldier was raised to the 
rank of a Franklin. But circumstances are strangely 
altered. Asturias is one of the poorest provinces 
of Spain, and the noble inhabitants having, for the 
most part, inherited no other patrimony from their 
ancestors than a strong muscular frame, are com- 
pelled to make the best of it among the more feeble 
tribes of the south. In this capital of Andalusia 
they have engrossed the employments of watermen, 

* Gentle and simple, as I find in those inexhaustible sources 
of intellectual delight, the Novels by the author of " Waverley," 
are used by the Scottish peasants in the same manner as Noble, 
and Llano, (plain, simple) by the Spaniards. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



35 



porters, and footmen. Those belonging to the two 
first classes are formed into a fraternity, whose 
members have a right to the exclusive use of a 
chapel in the cathedral. The privilege which they 
value most, however, is that of affording the twenty 
stoutest men to convey the moveable stage on 
which the consecrated host is paraded in public, 
on Corpus Christi day, enshrined in a small temple 
of massive silver. The bearers are concealed 
behind rich gold-cloth hangings, which reach the 
ground on the four sides of the stage. The weight 
of the whole machine is enormous ; yet these twenty 
men bear it on the hind part of the head and neck, 
moving with such astonishing ease and regularity, 
as if the motion arose from the impulse of steam, or 
some steady mechanical power. 

While these Gentlemen Hidalgos are employed in 
such ungentle services, though the law allows them 
the exemptions of their class, public opinion con- 
fines them to their natural level. The only chance 
for any of these disguised noblemen to be publicly 
treated with due honour and deference is, unfor- 
tunately, one for which they feel an unconquerable 
aversion — that of being delivered into the rude 
hands of a Spanish Jack Ketch. We had here, two 
years ago, an instance of this, which I shall relate, as 
being highly characteristic of our national preju- 
dices about blood. 

A gang of five banditti was taken within the. 



36' LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

jurisdiction of this Audiencia, or chief court of 
justice, one of whom, though born and brought up 
among the lowest ranks of society, was, by family, 
an Hidalgo, and had some relations among the 
better class of gentlemen. I believe the name of 
the unfortunate man was Herrera, and that he was 
a native of a town about thirty English miles from 
Seville, called el Arahal. But I have not, at pre- 
sent, the means of ascertaining the accuracy of 
these particulars. After lingering, as usual, four 
or five years in prison, these unfortunate men were 
found guilty of several murders and highway rob- 
beries, and sentenced to suffer death. The relations 
of the Hidalgo, who, foreseeing this fatal event, had 
been watching the progress of the trial, in order to 
step forward just in time to avert the stain which 
a cousin, in the second or third remove, would 
cast upon their family, if he died in mid-air like a 
villain ; presented a petition to the judges, accom- 
panied with the requisite documents, claiming for 
their relative the honours of his rank, and engaging 
to pay the expenses attending the execution of a 
nobleman. The petition being granted as a matter 
of course, the following scene took place. At a 
short distance from the gallows on which the four 
simple robbers were to be hanged in a cluster, from 
the central point of the cross beam, all dressed in 
white shrouds, with their hands tied before them, 
that the hangman, who actually rides upon the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



37 



shoulders of the criminal,, may place his foot as in 
a stirrup,* — was raised a scaffold about ten feet 
high, on an area of about fifteen by twenty, the 
whole of which and down to the ground, on all 
sides, was covered with black baize. In the centre 
of the scaffold was erected a sort of arm-chair, with 
a stake for its back, against which, by means of 
an iron collar attached to a screw, the neck is 
crushed by one turn of the handle. This machine 
is called Garrote — " a stick" — from the old- 
fashioned method of strangling, by twisting the 
fatal cord with a stick. Two flights of steps on 
opposite sides of the stage, afforded a separate 
access, one for the criminal and the priest, the 
other for the executioner and his attendant. 

The convict, dressed in a loose gown of black 
baize, rode on a horse, a mark of distinction pecu- 
liar to his class, (plebeians riding on an ass, or 
being dragged on a hurdle,) attended by a priest, 
and a notary, and surrounded by soldiers. Black 
silk cords were prepared to bind him to the arms 
of the seat ; for ropes are thought dishonourable. 
After kneeling to receive the last absolution from 
the priest, he took off a ring, with which the un- 
fortunate man had been provided for that melan- 
choly occasion. According to etiquette he should 
have disdainfully thrown it down for the execu- 

* The Cortes have abolished this barbarous method of inflict- 
ing death. 



3S LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 

tioner ; but, as a mark of Christian humility, he 
put it into his hand. The sentence being exe- 
cuted, four silver candlesticks, five feet high, with 
burning wax-candles of a proportionate length 
and thickness, were placed at the corners of the 
scaffold ; and in about three hours, a suitable 
funeral was conducted by the posthumous friends 
of the noble robber, who, had they assisted him to 
settle in life with half of what they spent in this 
absurd and disgusting show, might, perhaps have 
saved him from his fatal end. But these honours 
being what is called a positive act of noblesse^ of 
which a due certificate is given to the surviving 
parties, to be recorded among the legal proofs of 
their rank ; they may have acted under the idea 
that their relative was fit only to add lustre to the 
family by the close of his career. 

The innumerable and fanciful gradations of 
family rank which the Spaniards have formed to 
themselves, without the least foundation in the 
laws of the country, are difficult to describe. 
Though the Hidalguia is a necessary qualification, 
especially in country towns, to be admitted into 
the best society, it is by no means sufficient, by 
itself, to raise the views of every Hidalgo to a 
family connexion with the " blue blood" — sangre 
azuloi the country. The shades by which the vital 
fluid approaches this privileged hue, would perplex 
the best colourist. These prejudices, however, 
have lost much of their force at Madrid, except 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



39 



among the grandees, and in such maritime towns 
as Malaga and Cadiz, where commerce has raised 
many new, and some foreign families into conse- 
quence. But there is a pervading spirit of vanity 
in the nation, which actuates even the lowest 
classes, and may be discovered in the evident mor- 
tification which menials and mechanics are apt to 
feel, on the omission of some modes of address 
intended, as it were, to cast a veil on the humble- 
ness of their condition. To call a man by the 
name of blacksmith, butcher , coachman, would be 
considered an insult. They all expect to be called 
either by their Christian name, or by the general 
appellation Maestro and in both cases with the 
prefixed Sehor ; unless the word expressing the 
employment should imply superiority : as May- 
oral, chief coachman — Rabadan, chief shep- 
herd — Aperador, bailiff. These, and similar names, 
are used without an addition, and sound well in 
the ears of the natives. But no female would 
suffer herself to be addressed cook, washer-wo- 
man, &c. ; they all feel and act as if, having a 
natural claim to a higher rank, misfortune alone 
had degraded them. Poverty, unless it be extreme, 
does not disqualify a man of family for the society 
of his equals. Secular clergymen, though ple- 
beians, are, generally, well received ; but the same 
indulgence is not readily extended to monks and 
friars, whose unpolished manners betray too openly 
the meanness of their birth. Wholesale merchants,- 
if they belong to the class of Hidalgos, are not 



40 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



avoided by the great gentry. In the law, attorneys 
and notaries are considered to be under the line of 
Cavalleros, though their rank, as in England, de- 
pends a great deal on their wealth and personal 
respectability. Physicians are nearly in the same 
case. 

Having now made you acquainted with what is 
here called the best sort of people, you will pro- 
bably like to have a sketch of their daily life : take 
it, then, neither from the first, nor the last of the 
class. 

Breakfast, in Spain, is not a regular family meal. 
It generally consists of chocolate, and buttered 
toast, or muffins, called molletes. Irish salt-butter 
is very much in use ; as the heat of the climate 
does not allow the luxuries of the dairy, except in 
the mountainous tracts of the north. Every one 
calls for chocolate whenever it suits him ; and 
most people take it when they come from mass — a 
ceremony seldom omitted, even by such as cannot 
be reckoned among the highly religious. After 
breakfast, the gentlemen repair to their occupa- 
tions ; and the ladies, who seldom call upon one 
another, often enjoy the amusement of music and a 
sermon at the church appointed on that day for 
the public adoration of the Consecrated Host, 
which, from morning till night, takes place through- 
out the year in this, and a few other large towns. 
This is called el jubileo — the jubilee ; as, by a 
spiritual grant of the Pope, those who visit the 
appointed church, are entitled to the plenary indul- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 41 

gence which, in former times, rewarded the trouble 
and dangers of a journey to Rome, on the first 
year of every century — a poor substitute, indeed, 
for the ludi saculares, which, in former times, drew 
people thither from all parts of the Roman empire 
The bait, however, was so successful for a time, 
that jubilees were celebrated every twenty-five 
years. But when the taste for papal indulgences 
began to be cloyed by excess, few would move a 
foot, and much less undertake a long journey, to 
spend their money for the benefit of the Pope and 
his Roman subjects. In these desperate circum- 
stances, the Holy Father thought it better to send 
the jubilee, with its plenary indulgence, to the dis- 
tant sheep of his flock, than to wait in vain for 
their coming to seek it at Rome. To this effort of 
pastoral generosity we owe the inestimable advan- 
tage of being able, every day, to perform a spiritual 
visit to St. Peter's at Rome ; which, to those who 
are indifferent about architectural beauty, is in- 
finitely cheaper, and just as profitable, as a pilgri- 
mage to the vicinity of the Capitol. 

About noon the ladies are at home, where, em- 
ployed at their needle, they expect the morning 
calls of their friends. I have already told you how 
easy it is for a gentleman to gain an introduction to 
any family : the slightest occasion will produce 
what is called an offer of the house, when you are 
literally told that the house is yours. Upon the 
strength of this offer, you may drop in as often as 



42 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



you please, and idle away hour after hour, in the 
most unmeaning, or it may chance, the most in- 
teresting conversation. 

The mention of this offer of the house induces 
me to give you some idea of the hyperbolical civi- 
lity of my countrymen. When an English noble- 
man, well known both to you and me, was some 
years ago travelling in this country, he wished to 
spend a fortnight at Barcelona ; but, the inn being 
rather uncomfortable for himself and family, he was 
desirous of procuring a country-house in the neigh- 
bourhood of the town. It happened at this time 
that a rich merchant, for whom our friend had 
a letter, called to pay his respects ; and in a 
string of high-flown compliments, assured his Lord- 
ship that both his town-house and his villa were 
entirely at his service. My lady's eyes sparkled 
with joy, and she was rather vexed that her hus- 
band had hesitated a moment to secure the villa 
for his family. Doubts arose as to the sincerity of 
the oifer, but she could not be persuaded that such 
forms of expression should be taken, in this coun- 
try, in the same sense as the — " Madam I am at 
your feet,"— with which every gentleman addresses 
a lady. After all, the merchant, no doubt, to his 
great astonishment, received a very civil note, ac- 
cepting the loan of his country house. But, in an- 
swer to the note, he sent an awkward excuse, and 
never shewed his face again. The poor man was so 
far from being to blame, that he only followed the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



43 



established custom of the country, according to 
which it would be rudeness not to offer any part 
of your property, which you either mention or 
show. Fortunately, Spanish etiquette is just and 
equitable on this point ; for as it would not pardon 
the omission of the offer, so it would never forgive 
the acceptance. 

A foreigner must be surprised at the strange mix- 
ture of caution and liberty which appears in the 
manners of Spain. Most rooms have glass doors ; 
but when this is not the case, it would be highly 
improper for any lady to sit with a gentleman, un- 
less the doors were open. Yet, when a lady is slightly 
indisposed in bed, she does not scruple to see every 
one of her male visitors. A lady seldom takes a 
gentleman's arm, and never shakes him by the 
hand ; but on the return of an old acquaintance 
after a considerable absence, or when they wish 
joy for some agreeable event, the common salute is 
an embrace. An unmarried woman must not be 
seen alone out of doors, nor must she sit tete-a-tete 
with a gentleman, even when the doors of the room 
are open ; but, as soon as she is married, she may 
go by herself where she pleases, and sit alone with 
any man for many hours every day. You have in 
England strange notions of Spanish jealousy. I can, 
however, assure you, that if Spanish husbands were^ 
at any time, what novels and old plays represent 
them, no race in Europe has undergone a more 
thorough change. 



44 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Dinners are generally at one, and in a few houses, 
between two and three. Invitations to dine are 
extremely rare. On some extraordinary occasions, 
as that of a young man performing his first mass — 
a daughter taking the veil — and, in the more weal- 
thy houses, on the saint-days of the heads of the 
family, they make what is called a cotwite, or feast. 
Any person accustomed to your private dinners, 
would be thrown into a fever by one of these par- 
ties. The height of luxury, on these occasions, is 
what we call Comida de Fonda — a dinner from the 
coffee-house. All the dishes are dressed at an inn, 
and brought ready to be served at table. The Spa- 
nish houses, even those of the best sort, are so ill 
provided with every thing required at table, that 
wine, plates, glasses, knives and forks, are brought 
from the inn together with the dinner. The noise 
and confusion of these feasts is inconceivable. Every 
one tries to repay the hospitable' treat with mirth 
and noise ; and though Spaniards are, commonly, 
water-drinkers, the bottle is used very freely on 
these occasions ; but they do not continue at table 
after eating the dessert. Upon the death of any one 
in a family, the nearest relatives send a dinner of 
this kind, on the day of the funeral, that they may 
save the chief mourners the trouble of preparing an 
entertainment for such of their kindred as have at- 
tended the body to church. Decorum, however, 
forbids any mirth on these occasions. 

After I became acquainted with English hospita- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 45 

lity, my mind was struck with a custom, which, 
being a matter of course in Spain, had never at- 
tracted my notice. An invitation to dinner, which, 
by the by, is never given in writing, must not be 
accepted on the first proposal. Perhaps our com- 
plimentary language makes it necessary to ascer- 
tain how far the inviter may be in earnest, and a 
good-natured civility has made it a rule to give na- 
tional vanity fair play, and never, without proper 
caution, to trust pot-luck, where fortune so seldom 
smiles upon that venerable utensil. The first invi- 
tation " to eat the soup" should be answered, 
therefore, with u a thousand thanks ;" by which a 
Spaniard civilly declines what no one wishes him to 
accept. If, after this skirmish of good breeding, the 
offer should be repeated, you may begin to suspect 
that your friend is in earnest, and answer him in 
the usual words, no se meta Usted en eso — " do not 
engage in such a thing." At this stage of the bu- 
siness, both parties having gone too far to recede, 
the invitation is repeated and accepted. 

I might, probably, have omitted the mention of 
this custom, had I not found, as it appears to me, 
a curious coincidence between Spanish and ancient 
Greek manners on this point. Perhaps you recol- 
lect that Xenophon opens his little work called 
" The Banquet," by stating how Socrates and his 
pupils, who formed the greater part of the company 
the entertainment therein described ; were invited 
by Callias, a rich citizen of Athens. The feast was 



4G 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



intended to celebrate the victory of a young man, 
who had obtained the crown at the Panatheneean 
games. Callias was walking home with his young 
friend to the Pireus, when he saw Socrates and his 
daily companions. He accosted the former in a 
familiar and playful manner, and, after a little ban- 
tering on his philosophical speculations, requested 
both him and his friends to give him the pleasure 
of their company at table. " They, however," says 
Xenophon, " at firsts as was proper, thanked him, 
and declined the invitation ; but ivhen it clearly ap- 
peared that he was angry at the refusal, follow- 
ed him." I am aware that the words in Xenophon 
admit another interpretation, and that the phrase 
which I render, as was proper, may be applied to 
the thanks alone ; but it may be referred, with as 
much or better reason, both to thanks and refusal, 
and the custom which I have stated inclines me 
strongly to adopt that sense.* The truth is, that 
wherever dinner is not, as in England, the chief 
and almost exclusive season of social converse, an 
invitation to dine must appear somewhat in the 
light of a gift or present — which every man of de- 
licacy feels reluctant to accept at all from a mere 
acquaintance, or without some degree of compul- 
sion, from a friend. Besides, we know the abuse 
and ridicule with which both Greeks and Romans 
attacked the Parasites, or dinner-hunters ; and it 



See note B. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



47 



is very natural to suppose that a true gentleman 
would be upon his guard against the most distant 
resemblance to those unfortunate starvelings. 

The custom of sleeping after dinner, called Siesta, 
is universal in summer, especially in Andalusia, 
where the intenseness of the heat produces languor 
and drowsiness. In winter, taking a walk, just 
after rising from table, is very prevalent. Many 
gentlemen, previously to their afternoon walk, re- 
sort to the coffee-houses, which now begin to be in 
fashion. 

Almost every considerable town of Spain is 
provided with a public walk, where the better 
classes assemble in the afternoon. These places 
are called Alamedas, from Alamo, a common name 
for the elm and poplar, the trees which shade such 
places. Large stone benches run in the direction 
of the alleys, where people sit either to rest them- 
selves or to carry on a long talk, in whispers, with 
the next lady ; an amusement which, in the idiom 
of the country, is expressed by the strange phrase, 
pelar la Pava — " to pluck the hen-turkey." We 
have in our Alameda several fountains of the most 
delicious water. No less than twenty or thirty 
men with glasses, each holding nearly a quart, 
move in every direction, so dextrously clashing two 
of them in their hands^ that without any danger of 
breaking them, they keep up a pretty lively tinkling 
like that of well-tuned small bells. So great is 



48 



LETTERS FROM SPATN. 



the quantity of water which these people sell to the 
frequenters of the walk, that most of them live 
throughout the year on what they thus earn in 
summer. Success in this trade depends on their 
promptitude to answer every call, their neatness in 
washing the glasses, and most of all, on their skilful 
use of the good-natured waggery peculiar to the 
lower classes of Andalusia. A knowing air, an arch 
smile, and some honied words of praise and endear- 
ments, as " My rose," " My soul," and many others, 
which even a modest and high-bred lady will hear 
without displeasure ; are infallible means of success 
among tradesmen who deal with the public at 
large, and especially with the more tender part of 
that public. The company in these walks pre- 
sents a motley crowd of officers in their regimentals, 
— of clergymen in their cassocks, black cloaks, and 
brood-brimmed hats, not unlike those of the coal- 
men in London, — and of gentlemen wrapped up in 
their capas, or in some uniform, without which a well- 
born Spaniard is almost ashamed to shew himself. 

The ladies' walking-dress is susceptible of little 
variety. Nothing short of the house being on fire 
would oblige a Spanish woman to step out of doors 
without a black petticoat, called Basquina, or Saya, 
and a broad black veil, hanging from the head over 
the shoulders, and crossed on the breast like a shawl, 
which they call Mantilla. The mantilla is, gene- 
rally, of silk trimmed round with broad lace. In 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



49 



summer-evenings some white mantillas are seen ; 
but no lady would wear them in the morning, and 
much less venture into a church in such a profane 
dress. 

A showy fan is indispensable, in all seasons, both 
in and out of doors. An Andalusian woman might 
as well want her tongue as her fan. The fan, besides, 
has this advantage over the natural organ of 
speech — that it conveys thought to a greater dis- 
tance. A dear friend at the farthest end of the 
public walk, is greeted and cheered by a quick, 
tremulous motion of the fan, accompanied with se- 
veral significant nods. An object of indifference is 
dismissed with a slow, formal inclination of the fan, 
which makes his blood run cold. The fan, now, 
screens the titter and whisper ; now condenses a 
smile into the dark sparkling eyes,, which take their 
aim just above it. A gentle tap of the fan com- 
mands the attention of the careless ; a waving 
motion calls the distant. A certain twirl between 
the fingers betrays doubt or anxiety — a quick 
closing and displaying the folds, indicates eagerness 
or joy. In perfect combination with the expres- 
sive features of my countrywomen, the fan is a 
magic wand, whose power is more easily felt than 
described. 

What is mere beauty, compared with the fascinat- - 
ing power arising from extreme sensibility ? Such as 
are alive to those invisible charms, will hardly find 
a plain face among the young women of Andalusia. 

E 



50 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Their features may not, at first view, please the 
eye; but seem to improve every day till they grow 
beautiful. Without the advantages of educa- 
tion, without even external accomplishments, the 
vivacity of their fancy sheds a perpetual glow over 
their conversation ; and the warmth of their heart 
gives the interest of affection to their most indif- 
ferent actions. But Nature, like a too fond mother, 
has spoilt them, and Superstition has completed 
their ruin. While the activity of their minds is 
allowedto run waste for watit of care and instruction, 
the consciousness of their powers to please, im- 
presses them with an early notion that life has but 
one source of happiness. Were their charms the 
effect of that cold twinkling fiame w hich flutters 
round the hearts of most Frenchwomen, they 
would be only dangerous to the peace and useful- 
ness of one half of society. But, instead of being 
the capricious tyrants of men, they are, generally, 
their victims. Few, very few Spanish women, and 
none, I will venture to say, among the Andalusians, 
have it in their power to be coquettes. If it may 
be said without a solecism, there is more of that 
vice in our men than in our females. The first, 
leading a life of idleness, and deprived by an ignorant, 
oppressive, and superstitious government, of every 
object that can raise and feed an honest ambition, 
waste their whole youth, and part of their manly 
age, in trifling with the best feelings of the tender 
sex, and poisoning, for mere mischief's sake, the very 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



51 



springs of domestic happiness. But oiir's is the 
most dire and complex disease that ever preyed 
upon the vitals of human society. With some of 
the noblest qualities that a people can possess (you 
will excuse an involuntary burst of national partia- 
lity^ we are worse than degraded — we are depraved, 
by that which is intended to cherish and exalt every 
social virtue. Our corrupters, our mortal enemies, 
are religion and government. To set the practical 
proofs of this bold position in a striking light is, un- 
doubtedly, beyond my abilities. Yet such, I must say, 
is the force of theproofs I possess on this melancholy 
topic, that they nearly overcome my mind with 
intuitive evidence. Let me, then, take leave of the 
subject into which my feelings have hurried me, 
by assuring you, that wherever the slightest aid is 
afforded to the female mind in this country, it 
exhibits the most astonishing quickness and capa- 
city ; and that, probably, no other nation in the 
world can present more lovely instances of a glow- 
ing and susceptible heart preserving unspotted 
purity, not from the dread of public opinion, but in 
spite of its encouragements. 



e 2 



o2 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



LETTER III. 



Seville, 1799L 

Fortune has favoured me with an acquaintance 
— a young clergyman of this town — for whom, 
since our first introduction, I have felt a growing 
esteem, such as must soon ripen into the warmest 
affection. Common danger, and common suffering, 
especially of the mind, prove often the readiest and 
most indissoluble bonds of human friendship : and 
when to this influence is added the blending power 
of an intercommunity of thoughts and sentiments, 
no less unbounded than the confidence with which 
two men put thereby their liberty, their fortune, 
and their life into the hands of each other — ima- 
gination can hardly measure the warmth and 
devotedness of honest hearts thus united. 

Spaniards, who have broken the trammels of 
superstition, possess a wonderful quickness to mark 
and know one another. Yet caution is so necessary, 
that we never offer the right hand of fellowship 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



53 



till, by gradual approaches, the heart and mind are 
carefully scanned on both sides. There are bullies 
in mental no less than in animal courage: and I have 
sometimes been in danger of committing myself 
with a pompous fool that was hazarding propo- 
sitions in the evening, which he was sure to lay, in 
helpless fear, before the confessor, the next morn- 
ing ; and who, had he met with free and unquali- 
fied assent from any one of the company, would 
have tried to save his own soul and body by carry- 
inj^thg^Jbol^ Inquisitors. But 

the character of my new friend was visible at a glance ; 
and, after some conversation, I could not feel the 
slightest apprehension that there might lurk in his 
heart either the villainly or the folly which can 
betray a man, in this world, under a pretext of 
ensuring his happiness in the next. He too, either 
from the circumstance of my long residence in 
England, or, as I hope, from something more pro- 
perly belonging to myself, soon opened his whole 
mind ; and we both uttered downright heresy. 
After this mutual, this awful pledge, the Scythian 
ceremony of tasting each other's blood could not 
have more closely bound us in interest and danger. 

The coolness of an orange-grove is not more 
refreshing to him who has panted across one of our 
burning plains, under the meridian sun in August, 
than the company of a few trusty friends to some 
unbending minds, after a long day of restraint and dis- 
simulation. When after our evening walk we are at 



54 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



last comfortably seated round my friend's reading- 
table^ where an amiable young officer, another clergy- 
man, and one of the most worthy and highly-gifted 
men that tyranny and superstition faave condemned 
to piue in obscurity, are always welcomed with a 
cordiality approaching to rapture — I cannot help 
comparing our feelings to those which we might 
suppose in Christian slaves at Algiers, who, having 
secretly unlocked the rivets of their fetters, could 
shake them off to feast and riot in the dead of night, 
cheering their hearts with wild visions of liberty, 
and salving their wounds with vague hopes of 
revenge. Revenge, did I say ! what a false notion 
would that word give you of the characters that 
compose our little club ! I doubt if Nature herself 
could so undo the work of her hands as to trans- 
form any one of my kind, my benevolent friends, 
into a man of blood. As to myself, mere pro- 
testations were useless. You know me ; and I shall 
leave you to judge. But there is a revenge of the 
fancy, perfectly consistent with true mildness and 
generosity, though certainly more allied to quick 
sensibility than to sound and sober judgment. The 
last, however, should be seldom, if at all, looked for 
among person sin our circumstances. Our childhood 
is artificially protracted till we wonder how we 
have grown old : and, being kept at an immeasur- 
able distance from the affairs and interest of public 
life, our passions, our virtues, and our vices, like 
those of early youth, have deeper roots in the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



55 



imagination than the heart. I will not say that 
this is a prevalent feature in the character of my 
countrymen ; but I have generally observed it 
among the best and the worthiest. As to my con- 
fidential friends, especially the one I mentioned at 
the beginning of this letter, in strict conformity 
with the temper which, I fear, I have but imper- 
fectly described, they spend their lives in giving 
vent, among themselves, to the suppressed feelings 
of ridicule or indignation, of which the religious 
institutions of this country are a perennial source 
to those who are compelled to receive them as of 
Divine authority. England has so far improved 
me, that I can perceive the folly of this conduct. 
I am aware that, instead of indulging this childish 
gratification of our anger, we should be preparing 
ourselves, by a profound study of our ancient laws 
and customs, and a perfect acquaintance with the 
pure and original doctrines of the Gospel, for any 
future opening to reformation in our church and 
state. But^under this^mtolerable system of intel- 
lectual oppression, we have associated the idea of 
Spanish law with despotism,jmd that of Christianity 
with absurdity and persecution. After my return 
from England I feel almost involuntarily relapsing 
into the old habits of my mind. With my friends, 
who have never left this country, any endeavour 
to break and counteract such habits would be per- 
fectly hopeless. Despondency drives them into a 
course of reading and thinking, which leads only to 



56 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



suppressed contempt and whispered sarcasm. The 
violence which they must constantly do to their 
best feelings, might breed some of the fiercer 
passions in breasts less softened with i( the milk of 
human kindness." But their hatred of the prevail- 
ing practices and opinions does not extend to per- 
sons.' Yet I for one must confess, that were I to 
act from a first and habitual impulse, without 
listening to my better j udgment, there is not a saint 
or a relic in the country I would not trample under 
foot, and treat with the utmost indignity. As 
things are, however, I content myself with scoffing 
and railing the whole day. But I trust that, on a 
change of circumstances, I should act more soberly 
than I feel. 

I should have found it very difficult, without 
this fortunate intimacy with a man who, though 
still in the prime of youth, has lately obtained, by 
literary competition, a place among what we call 
the higher clergy — that is, such as are above the 
cure of souls — to give you an insight into the in- 
ternal constitution of the Spanish church, the vices 
of the system which prepares our young men for 
the altar, and the ruinous foundations on which the 
ecclesiastical law, aided by civil power, hazards the 
morals of our religious teachers and their flocks. 
When I had expressed to my friend my desire of 
having his assistance in carrying on this corres- 
pondence, as well as satisfied his mind on the im- 
probability of any thing entrusted to you, recoiling 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



57 



upon himself in Spain ; he shewed me a manuscript 
he had drawn up some time before, under the title : 
" A few facts connected with the formation of the 
intellectual and moral character of a Spanish 
Clergyman." " Who knows/' he said, " but that 
this sketch may answer your purpose ? No travel- 
ler's-guide account of our universities and clerical 
establishments, can convey such a living picture of 
our state, as the history of a young mind trained 
up under their influence. You might easily find a 
list of the professors, endowments, and class-books 
of which the framework of Spanish education con- 
sists. But who would have the patience to read 
it, or what could he learn from it ? I had intended 
that this little effusion of an oppressed and 
struggling mind should lie concealed till some 
future period, probably after my death, when my 
country might be prepared to learn and lament the 
wrongs she has, for ages, heaped on her children. 
But, since you have provided against discovery, 
and are willing to translate into English anv thing 
I may give you, it will be some satisfaction to know 
that the results of my sad experience are laid before 
the most enlightened and benevolent people of 
Europe. Perhaps, if they know the true source of 
our evils, the day will come when they may be 
able and willing to help us." 

The question with me now was, not whether I 
should accept the manuscript, but whether I could 
do it justice in the translation. Trusting, however^ 



58 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



that the novelty of the matter would atone for the 
faults of my style ; labour and perseverance have, 
at length, enabled me to enclose it in this letter. 
As I have thus introduced a stranger to you. I am 
bound in common civility to fall into the back- 
ground, and let him speak for himself. 



A few Facts connected with the formation of the In~ 
tellectual and Moral Character of a Spanish Cler- 
gyman. 

" I do not possess the cynical habits of mind 
which would enable me, like Rousseau, to expose 
my heart naked to the gaze of the world. I have 
neither his unfortunate and odious propensities to 
gloss by an affected candour, nor his bewitching 
eloquence to display, whatever good qualities I may 
possess : and as I must overcome no small reluct- 
ance and fear of impropriety, to enter upon the task 
of writing an account of the workings of my mind 
and heart, I have some reason to believe that I am 
led to do so by a sincere desire of being useful to 
others. Millions of human creatures are made to 
venture their happiness on a form of Christianity 
which possesses the strongest claims to our attention, 
both from its great antiquity, and the extent of its 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



59 



sway over the most civilized part of the earth. The 
various effects of that religious system, unmixed 
with any thing unauthorized or spurious, upon my 
country, my friends, and myself, have been the 
object of my most serious attention, from the very 
dawn of reason till the moment when I am writing 
these lines. If the result of my experience should be, 
that religion, as it is taught and enforced in Spain, 
is productive of exquisite misery in the amiable and 
good, and of gross depravity in the unfeeling and 
the thoughtless — that it is an insuperable obstacle 
to the improvement of the mind, and gives a de- 
cided ascendancy to lettered absurdity, and to dull- 
headed bigotry — that it necessarily breeds such re- 
serve and dissimulation in the most promising and 
valuable part of the people as must check and 
stunt the noblest of public virtues, candour and 
political courage — if all this, and much more that 
I am not able to express in the abstract form of 
simple positions, should start into view from the 
plain narrative of an obscure individual ; I hope I 
shall not be charged with the silly vanity of attri- 
buting any intrinsic importance to the domestic 
events and private feelings which are to fill up the 
following pages. 

if I was born of parents who, though possessed 
of little property, held a decent rank among the 
gentry of my native town. Their characters, how- 
ever, are so intimately connected with the forma- 



60 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



tion of my own, that I shall indulge an honest pride 
in describing them. 

u My father was the son of a rich Irish merchant, 
who obtained for himself and descendants a patent 
of Hidalguia, or noblesse, early in the reign of Fer- 
dinand VI. During the life of my grandfather, and 
the consequent prosperity of his house, my father 
was sent abroad for his education. This gave a po- 
lish to his manners, which, at that period, was not 
easily found even in the first ranks of the nobility. 
Little more than accomplishments, however, was 
left him, when, in consequence of his father's death, 
the commercial concerns of the house being ma- 
naged by a stranger, received a shock which had 
nearly reduced the family to poverty and want. 
Yet something was saved ; and my father, who, by 
some unaccountable infatuation, had not been 
brought up to business, was now obliged to exert 
himself to the utmost of his power. Joining, there- 
fore, in partnership with a more wealthy merchant, 
who had married one of his sisters, he contrived, by 
care and diligence, together with a strict, though 
not sordid economy, not to descend below the rank 
in which he had been born. Under these unpro- 
mising circumstances he married my mother, who, 
if she could add but little to her husband's fortune, 
yet brought him a treasure of love and virtue, which 
he found constantly increasing, till death removed 
him on the first approaches of old age. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



61 



u My mother was of honourable parentage. She 
was brought up in that absence of mental cultiva- 
tion which prevails, to this day, among the Spa- 
nish ladies. But her natural talents were of a su- 
perior cast. She was lively, pretty, and sang sweetly. 
Under the influence of a happier country, her pleas- 
ing vivacity, the quickness of her apprehension, and 
the exquisite degree of sensibility which animated 
her words and actions, would have qualified her to 
shine in the most elegant and refined circles. 

Benevolence prompted all my father s actions, en- 
dued him, at times, with something like supernatu- 
ral vigour, and gave him, for the good of his fellow- 
creatures, the courage and decision he wanted in 
whatever concerned himself. With hardly any 
thing to spare, I do not recollect a time when our 
house was not a source of relief and consolation to 
some families of such as, by a characteristic and 
feeling appellation, are called among us the blush- 
ing poo?\* In all seasons, for thirty years of his 
life, my father allowed himself no other relaxation, 
after the fatiguing business of his counting-house, 
than a visit to the general hospital of this town — 
a horrible scene of misery, where four or five hun- 
dred beggars are, at a time, allowed to lay them- 
selves down and die, when worn out by want and 
disease. Stripping himself of his coat, and having 
put on a coarse dress for the sake of cleanliness, in 



* Pobres vergonzantes. 



62 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



which he was scrupulous to a fault ; he was em- 
ployed, till late at night, in making the beds of the 
poor, taking the helpless in his arms, and stooping 
to such services as even the menials in attendance 
were often loth to perform. All this he did of his 
own free will, without the least connexion, public 
or private, with the establishment. Twice he was 
at death's door from the contagious influence of the 
atmosphere in which he exerted his charity. But 
no danger would appal him when engaged in ad- 
ministering relief to the needy. Foreigners, cast by 
misfortune into that gulf of wretchedness, were the 
peculiar objects of his kindness. 

" The principle of benevolence was not less pow- 
erful in my mother ; but her extreme sensibility 
made her infinitely more susceptible of pain than 
pleasure — of fear than hope — and, for such charac- 
ters, a technical religion is ever a source of dis- 
tracting terrors. Enthusiasm — that bastard of re- 
ligious liberty, that vigorous weed of Protestantism 
— does not thrive under the jealous eye of infallible 
authority. Catholicism, it is true, has, in a few 
instances, produced a sort of splendid madness ; 
but its visions and trances partake largely of the 
tameness of a mind previously exhausted by fears 
and agonies, meekly borne under the authority of a 
priest. The throes of the New Birth harrow up the 
mind of the Methodist, and give it that frenzied 
energy of despair, which often settles into the all- 
hoping, all-daring raptures of the enthusiast. The 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



63 



Catholic Saint suffers in all the passiveness of blind 
submission, till nature sinks exhausted, and reason 
gives way to a gentle, visionary madness. The na- 
tural powers of my mother s intellect were strong 
enough to withstand, unimpaired, the enormous 
and constant pressure of religious fears in their most 
hideous shape. But, did I not deem reason the 
only gift of Heaven which fully compensates the 
evils of this present existence, I might have wished 
for its utter extinction in the first and dearest ob- 
ject of my natural affection. Had she become a 
visionary, she had ceased to be unhappy. But she 
possessed to the last an intellectual energy equal to 
any exertion, except one, which was not compat- 
ible with the influence of her country — that of look- 
ing boldly into the dark recess where lurked the 
phantoms that harassed and distressed her mind. 

" It would be difficult, indeed, to choose two 
fairer subjects for observing the effects of the reli- 
gion of Spain. The results, in both, were lament- 
able, though certainly not the most mischievous it 
is apt to produce. In one, we see mental soberness 
and good sense degraded into timidity and indeci- 
sion — unbounded goodness of heart, confined to 
the lowest range of benevolence. In the other, we 
mark talents of a superior kind, turned into the 
ingenious tormentors of a heart, whose main source 
of wretchedness was an exquisite sensibility to the 
beauty of virtue, and an insatiate ardour in treading 
the devious and thorny path it was made to take 



64 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



for the 4 way which leadeth unto life.' — A bolder 
reason, in the first, (it will be said) and a reason 
less fluttered by sensibility, in the second, would 
have made those virtuous minds more cautious of 
yielding themselves up to the full influence of ascetic 
devotion. Is this, then, all that men are to expect 
from the unbounded promises of light, and the lofty 
claims of authority, which our religion holds forth? 
Is it thus, that, when, to obtain the protection of 
an infallible guide, we have, at his command, maim- 
ed and fast bound our reason, still a precipice yawns 
before our feet, from which none but that insulted 
reason can save us ? Are we to call for her aid on 
the brink of despair and insanity, and then spurn 
our faithful, though injured friend, lest she should 
unlock our hand from that of our proud and treach- 
erous leader ? Often have I, from education, habit, 
and a misguided love of moral excellence, been 
guilty of that inconsistency, till frequent disap- 
pointment urged me to break my chains. Painful, 
indeed, and fierce was the struggle by which I 
gained my liberty, and doomed I am for ever to 
bear the marks of early bondage. But no power on 
earth shall make me again give up the guidance 
of my reason, till I can find a rule of conduct and 
belief that may safely be trusted, without wanting 
reason itself to moderate and expound it. 

" The first and most anxious care of my parents 
was to sow abundantly the seeds of Christian virtue 
in my infant breast. In this, as in all their proceed- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



65 



ings, they strictly followed the steps of those whose 
virtue had received the sanction of their church. 
Religious instruction was conveyed to my mind 
with the rudiments of speech ; and if early impres- 
sions alone could be trusted for the future com- 
plexion of a child's character, the music,, and the 
splendid pageantry of the cathedral of Seville, which 
was to me the first scene of mental enjoyment^ 
might, at this day, be the soundest foundation of 
my Catholic faith. 

" Divines have declared that moral responsibility 
begins at the age of seven, and, consequently, chil- 
dren of quick parts are not allowed to go much 
longer without the advantage of confession. My 
mind had scarcely attained the first climacteric, 
when I had the full benefit of absolution for such 
sins as my good mother, who acted as the accusing 
conscience, could discover in my naughtiness. The 
church, we know, cannot be wrong ; but to say the 
honest truth, all her pious contrivances have, by a 
sad fatality, produced in me just the reverse of their 
aim. "Though the clergyman who was to shrive 
this young sinner had mild, gentle, and affectionate 
manners, there is something in auricular confession 
which has revolted my feelings from the day when 
I first knelt before a priest, in childish simplicity, 
to the last time I have been forced to repeat that 
ceremony, as a protection to my life and liberty, 
with scorn and contempt in my heart. 

(( Auricular confession, as a subject of theologi- 

F 



66 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



cal controversy, is, probably, beneath the notice 
of many ; but I could not easily allow the name of 
philosopher to any one who should look upon an 
inquiry into the moral influence of that religious 
practice, as perfectly void of interest. It has been ob- 
served, with great truth, that the most philanthropic 
man would feel more uneasiness in the expectation 
of having his little finger cut off, than in the assur- 
ance that the whole empire of China was to be swal- 
lowed up the next day by an earthquake. If ever, there- 
fore, these lines should meet the eye of the public 
in some distant country (for ages must pass before 
they can see the light in Spain), I entreat my read- 
ers to beware of indifference about evils from which 
it is their happiness to be free, and to make a due 
allowance for the feelings which lead me into a 
short digression. They certainly cannot expect to 
be acquainted with Spain without a sufficient know- 
ledge of the powerful moral engines which are at 
work in that country ; and they will, perhaps, find 
that a Spanish priest may have something to say 
which is new to them on the subject of confession. 

" The effects of confession upon young minds 
are, generally, unfavourable to their future peace 
and virtue. It was to that practice I owed the first 
taste of remorse, while yet my soul was in a state 
of infant purity. My fancy had been strongly im- 
pressed with the awful conditions of the penitential 
lawj and the word sacrilege had made me shudder 
on being told that the act of concealing any thought 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



67 



or action, the rightfulness of which I suspected, 
would make me guilty of that worst of crimes, and 
greatly increase my danger of everlasting torments, 
My parents had, in this case, done no more than 
their duty, according to the rules of their church. 
But, though they had succeeded in rousing my 
fear of hell, this was, on the other hand, too feeble 
to overcome a childish bashfulness, which made 
the disclosure of a harmless trifle, an effort above 
my strength. 

" The appointed day came at last, when I was 
to wait on the confessor. Now wavering, now de- 
termined not to be guilty of sacrilege, I knelt be- 
fore the priest, leaving, however, in my list of sins, 
the last place to the hideous offence — I believe it 
was a petty larceny committed on a young bird. 
But, when I came to the dreaded point, shame and 
confusion fell upon me, and the accusation stuck in 
my throat. The imaginary guilt of this silence 
haunted my mind for four years, gathering horrors 
at every successive confession, and rising into an 
appalling spectre, when, at the age of twelve, I was 
taken to receive the sacrament. In this miserable 
state I continued till, with the advance of reason, I 
plucked, at fourteen, courage enough to unburthen 
my conscience by a general confession of the past. 
And let it not be supposed that mine is a singular 
case, arising either from morbid feeling or the na- 
ture of my early education. Few, indeed, among 
the many penitents I have examined, have escaped 

f 2 



68 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the evils of a similar state ; for, what a silly bash- 
fulness does in children, is often, in after-life, the 
immediate effect of that shame by which fallen 
frailty clings still to wounded virtue. The necessity 
of confession, seen at a distance, is lighter than a 
feather in the balance of desire ; while, at a subse- 
quent period, it becomes a punishment on delicacy 
■ — an instrument to blunt the moral sense, by mul- 
tiplying the subjects of remorse, and directing its 
greatest terrors against imaginary crimes. 

" These evils affect, nearly equally, the two 
sexes ; but there are some that fall peculiarly to 
the lot of the softer. Yet the remotest of all — at 
least, as long as the Inquisition shall exist — is the 
danger of direct seduction by the priest. The for- 
midable powers of that odious tribunal have been 
so skilfully arrayed against the abuse of sacramen- 
tal trust, that few are found base and blind enough 
to make the confessional a direct instrument .of de- 
bauch. The strictest delicacy, however, is, I be- 
lieve, inadequate fully to oppose the demoralizing 
tendency of auricular confession. Without the 
slightest responsibility, and, not unfrequently, in 
the conscientious discharge of what he believes his 
duty, the confessor conveys to the female mind the 
first foul breath which dims its virgin purity. He, 
undoubtedly, has a right to interrogate upon sub- 
jects which are justly deemed awkward even for 
maternal confidence ; and it would require more 
than common simplicity to suppose that a discre- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



69 



tionary power of this nature, left in the hands of 
thousands — men beset with more than common 
temptations to abuse it — will generally be exercised 
with proper caution. But I will no longer dwell 
upon this subject for the present. Men of unpre- 
judiced minds will easily conjecture what I leave 
unsaid ; while to shew a hope of convincing such 
as have made a full and irrevocable surrender of 
their judgment, were only to libel my own. 

" From the peculiar circumstances of my coun- 
try, the training of my mental faculties was an ob- 
ject of little interest with my parents. There could 
be scarcely any doubt in the choice of a line of life 
for mej who was the eldest of four chidren. My 
fathers fortune was improving ; and I might help 
and succeed him with advantage to myself and two 
sisters. It was, therefore, in my fathers counting- 
house, that, under the care of an old trusty clerk, 
I learned writing and arithmetic. To be a perfect 
stranger to literature is not, even now, a disgrace 
among the better class of Spaniards. But my mo- 
ther, whose pride, though greatly subdued, was 
never conquered by devotion, felt anxious that, 
since, from prudential motives, I was doomed to be 
buried for life in a counting-house, a little know - 
ledge of Latin should distinguish me from a mere 
mercantile drudge. A private teacher was accord- 
ingly procured, who read with me in the evening, 
after I had spent the best part of the day in making 
copies of the extensive correspondence of the house 



70 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



"I was now about ten years old, and though, 
from a child, excessively fond of reading, my ac- 
quaintance with books did not extend beyond a 
history of the Old Testament — a collection of the 
Lives of the Saints mentioned in the Catholic Al- 
manack, out of which I chose the Martyrs, for 
modern saints were never to my taste — a little work 
that gave an amusing miracle of the Virgin for 
^ every day of the year* — and prized above all, a Spa- 
nish translation of Fenelons Telemachus, which I 
perused till I had nearly learned it by heart. I heard, 
therefore, with uncommon pleasure, that, in acquir- 
ing a knowledge of Latin, I should have to read 
stories not unlike that of my favourite the Prince of 
Ithaca. Little time, however, was allowed me for 
study, lest, from my love of learning, I should 
conceive a dislike to mercantile pursuits. But my 
mind had taken a decided bent. I hated the count- 
ing-house, and loved my books. Learning and the 
church were, to me, inseparable ideas ; and I soon 
declared to my mother that I would be nothing but 
a clergyman. 

" This declaration roused the strongest pre- 
judices of her mind and heart, which cold prudence 
had only damped into acquiescence. To have a 
son who shall daily hold in his hands the real body 
of Christ, is an honour, a happiness which raises 
the humblest Spanish woman into a self-complacent 



* See Note C. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



71 



consequence that attends her through life. What, 
then, must be the feelings of one who, to the 
strongest sense of devotion, joins the hope of seeing 
the dignities and emoluments of a rich and proud 
Church bestowed upon a darling child? The 
Church, besides, by the law of celibacy, averts that 
mighty terror of a fond mother—a wife, who, 
sooner or later, is to draw away her child from 
home. A boy, therefore, who at the age of ten or 
twelve, dazzled either by the gaudy dress of an offici- 
ating priest — by the importance he sees others 
acquire, when the bishop confers upon them the 
clerical tonsure — or by any other delusion of child- 
hood, declares his intention of taking orders, 
seldom, very seldom escapes the heavy chain which 
the Church artfully hides under the tinsel of 
honours, and the less flimsy, though also less 
attainable splendour of her gold. Such a boy, 
among the poor, is infallibly plunged into a convent i 
if he belongs to the gentry, he is destined to swell 
the ranks of the secular clergy. 

" It is true that, in all ages and countries, the 
leading events of human life are inseparably 
linked with some of the slightest incidents of child- 
hood. But this fact, instead of an apology, affords 
the heaviest charge against the crafty and barbarous 
system of laying snares, wherein unsuspecting in- 
nocence may, at the very entrance of life, lose 
every chance of future peace, happiness and virtue. 
To allow a girl of sixteen to bind herself, for ever. 



72 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



with vows — not only under the awful, though 
distant guardianship of heaven, but the odious and 
immediate superintendence of man — ranks, in- 
deed, with the most hideous abuses of superstition. 
The law of celibacy, it is true, does not bind the 
secular clergy till the age of twenty-one ; but this 
is neither more nor less than a mockery of common 
sense, in the eyes of those who practically know 
how frivolous is that latitude. 5 * A man has seldom 
the means to embrace, or the aptitude to exercise 
a profession for which he has not been trained from 
early youth. It is absurd and cruel to pretend that 
a young man, whose best ten or twelve years have 
been spent in preparation for orders, is at full 
liberty to turn his back upon the Church when he 
has arrived at one-and-twenty. He may, indeed, 
preserve his liberty ; but to do so he must forget 
that most of his patrimony has been laid out on his 
education, that he is too old for a cadetship in the 
army, too poor for commerce, and too proud for a 
petty trade. He must behold, unmoved, the tears 
of his parents ; and, casting about for subsistence, 
in a country where industry affords no resource, 
love, the main cause of these struggles, must 
content itself with bare possible lawfulness, and 
bid adieu to the hope of possession. Wherever 

* The secular clergy are not bound by vows. Celibacy is 
enforced upon them by a law which makes their marriage illegal, 
and punishable by the Ecclesiastical Courts. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 73 

unnatural privations make not a part of the clerical 
duty, many may find themselves in the Church 
who might be better elsewhese. But no great 
effort is wanted to make them happy in themselves, 
and useful to the community. Not so under the 
unfeeling tyranny of our ecclesiastical law. For, 
where shall we find that virtue which, having 
Nature herself for its enemy, and misery for its meed, 
will be able to extend its care to the welfare of 
others ? — As to myself, the tenour and colour of 
my life were fixed the moment I expressed my 
childish wish of being a clergyman. The love of 
knowledge, however, which betrayed me into the 
path of wretchedness, has never forsaken its victim. 
It is probable that I could not have found happi- 
ness in uneducated ignorance. Scanty and truly 
hard-earned as it is the store on which my mind 
feeds itself, I would not part with it for a whole life 
of unthinking pleasure : and since the necessity of 
circumstances left rae no path to mental enjoy- 
ment, except that I have so painfully trodden, I 
hail the moment when I entered it, and only bewail 
the fatality which fixed my birth in a Catholic 
country. 

" The order of events would here require an ac- 
count of the system of Spanish education, and its 
first effects upon my mind ; but, since I speak of 
myself only to shew the state of my country, I 
shall proceed with the moral influence, that, without 
interruption, I may present the facts relating 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



severally to the heart and intellect, in as large 
masses as the subject permits. 

" The Jesuits, till the abolition of that order, had 
an almost unrivalled influence over the better 
classes of Spaniards. They had nearly monopolized 
the instruction of the Spanish youth, at which 
they toiled without pecuniary reward ; and were 
equally zealous in promoting devotional feelings 
both among their pupils and the people at large. It 
is well known that the most accurate division of 
labour was observed in the allotment of their vari- 
ous employments. Their candidates, who, by a 
refinement of ecclesiastical policy, after an unusu- 
ally long probation, were bound by vows, which, 
depriving them of liberty, yet left a discretionary 
power of ejection in the order ; were incessantly 
watched by the penetrating eye of the master of 
novices : a minute description of their character 
and peculiar turn was forwarded to the superiors, 
and at the end of the noviciate, they were employed 
to the advantage of the community, without ever 
thwarting the natural bent of the individual, or 
diverting his natural powers by a multiplicity of 
employments. Wherever, as in France and Italy, 
literature was in high estimation, the Jesuits spared 
no trouble to raise among themselves men of 
eminence in that department. In Spain, their 
chief aim was to provide their houses with popular 
preachers, and zealous, yet prudent and gentle, 
confessors. Pascal, and the Jansenist party, of 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



75 



which he was the organ, accused them of syste- 
matic laxity in their moral doctrines : but the 
charge, I believe, though plausible in theory, was 
perfectly groundless in practice. If, indeed, ascetic 
virtue could ever be divested of its connatural evil 
tendency — if a system of moral perfection that has 
for its basis, however disavowed and disguised, the 
Manichsean doctrine of the two principles, could 
be applied with any partial advantage as a rule of 
conduct, it was so in the hands of the Jesuits. The 
strict, unbending maxims of the Jansenists, by 
urging persons of all characters and tempers to an 
imaginary goal of perfection, bring quickly their 
whole system to the decision of experience. 
They are like those enthusiasts who, venturing 
upon the practice of some Gospel sayings, in the 
literal sense, have made the absurdity of that in- 
terpretation as clear as noon-day light. A greater 
knowledge of mankind made the Jesuits more 
cautious in the culture of devotional feelings. They 
well knew that but few can prudently engage in 
open hostility with what in ascetic language is 
called the world. They now and then trained up a 
sturdy champion, who, like their founder Loyola, 
might provoke the enemy to single combat with 
honour to his leaders ; but the crowd of mystic 
combatants were made to stand upon a kind of 
jealous truce, which, in spite of all care, often pro- 
duced some jovial meetings of the advanced parties 
on both sides. The good fathers came forward, 



76 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



rebuked their soldiers back into the camp, and 
filled up the place of deserters by their indefa- 
tigable industry in engaging recruits. 

" The influence of the Jesuits on the Spanish 
morals, from every thing I have learned, was un- 
doubtedly favourable. Their kindness attracted 
the youth from the schools to their company : and, 
though this intimacy was often employed in making 
proselytes to the order, it also contributed to the 
preservation of virtue in that slippery age, both by 
the ties of affection, and the gentle check of ex- 
ample. Their churches were crowded every Sun- 
day with regular attendants, who came to confess 
and receive the sacrament. The practice of choos- 
ing a certain priest, not only to be the occasional 
confessor, but director of the conscience, was greatly 
encouraged by the Jesuits. The ultimate effects 
of this surrender of the judgment are, indeed, 
dangerous and degrading ; but, in a country where 
the darkest superstition is constantly impelling the 
mind into the opposite extremes of religious melan- 
choly and profligacy, weak persons are sometimes 
preserved from either by the friendly assistance of 
a prudent director ; and the Jesuits were generally 
well qualified for that office. Their conduct was 
correct, and their manners refined. They kept up a 
dignified intercourse with the middling and higher 
classes, and were always ready to help and instruct 
the poor, without descending to their level. Since 
the expulsion of the Jesuits, the better classes, for 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



77 



the most part, avoid the company of monks and 
friars, exce]:>t in an official capacity; while the 
lower ranks, from which these professional saints are 
generally taken, and where they re-appear, raised, 
indeed, into comparative importance, but grown 
bolder in grossness and vice, suffer more from their 
influence than they would by being left without 
any religious minister s. # 

" Since the abolition of the Jesuits, their devo- 
tional system has been kept up, though upon a 
much narrower scale, by the congregations of Saint 
Philip Neri (FOratoire, in France), an Italian of 
the sixteenth century, who established voluntary 
associations of secular clergymen, living together 
under an easy rule, but without monastic vows, in 
order to devote themselves to the support of piety. 
The number, however, of these associated priests is 
so small, that, notwithstanding their zeal and their 
studied imitation of the Jesuits, they are but a faint 
shadow of that surprising institution. Yet these 
priests alone have inherited the skill of Loyola's 
followers in the management of the ascetic con- 
trivance, which, invented by that ardent fanatic, is 
still called, from his Christian name, Exercises of 
Saint Ignatius. As it would be impossible to sketch 
the history of my mind and heart without noticing 
the influence of that powerful engine, I cannot omit 
a description of the establishment kept by the Phi- 



* See note D. 



78 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



lippians at Seville — the most complete of its kind 
that probably has ever existed. 

u The Exercises of Saint Ignatius are a series of 
meditations on various religions subjects, so artifici- 
ally disposed, that the mind being at first thrown 
into distressing horror, may be gradually raised to 
hope, and finally soothed, not into a certainty of 
Divine favour, but a timid consciousness of pardon. 
Ten consecutive days are passed in perfect abstrac- 
tion from all wordly pursuits. The persons who 
submit to this spiritual discipline, leave their homes 
for rooms allotted to them in the religious house 
where the Exercises are to be performed, and yield 
themselves up to the direction of the president. 
The priest, who for nearly thirty years has been 
acting in that capacity at Seville, enjoys such in- 
fluence over the wealthy part of the town, that, not 
satisfied with the temporary accommodation which 
his convent afforded to the pious guests, he can 
now lodge the Exercitants in a separate building, 
with a chapel annexed, and every requisite for com- 
plete abstraction, during the days of their retire- 
ment. Six or eight times in the year the Exercises 
are performed by different sets of fifty persons 
each. The utmost precision and regularity are 
observed in the distribution of their time. Roused 
by a large bell at five in the morning, they imme- 
diately assemble in the chapel to begin the medita- 
tion appointed for the day. At their meals they 
observe a deep silence ; and no intercourse, even 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



79 



among each other, is permitted, except during one 
hour in the evening. The settled gloom of the 
house, the almost incessant reading and meditation 
upon subjects which, from their vagueness and 
infinitude, harass and bewilder the fancy, and that 
powerful sympathetic influence, which affects 
assemblies where all are intent on the same object 
and bent on similar feelings, render this house a 
modern cave of Trophonius, within whose dark 
cells cheerfulness is often extinguished for ever. 

" Unskilful, indeed, must be the hand that, pos- 
sessed of this engine, can fail to subdue the stoutest 
mind in which there lurks a particle of superstitious 
fear. But Father Vega is one of those men who 
are born to command a large portion of their fel- 
low creatures, either by the usual means, or some 
contrivance of their own. The expulsion of the 
Jesuits during his probationship in that order, de- 
nied him the ample field on which his early views 
had been fixed. After a course of theological stu- 
dies at the University, he became a member of the 
Oratorio, and soon attracted the notice of the whole 
town by his preaching. His active and bold mind 
combines qualities seldom found in the same indi- 
vidual. Clear-headed, resolute, and ambitious, the 
superstitious feelings which melt him into tears 
whenever he performs the Mass, have not in the 
least impaired the mental daringness he originally 
owes to nature. Though seldom mixing in society, 
he is a perfect man of the world. Far from compro- 



80 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



mising his lofty claims to respect, he flatters the 
proudest nobles of his spiritual train by well-timed 
bursts of affected rudeness, which, being a mere 
display of spiritual authority, perfectly consistent 
with a full acknowledgment of their worldly rank 
and dignity, give them, in the eyes of the more 
humble bystanders, the additional merit of Chris- 
tian condescension. As an instance of this., I recol- 
lect his ordering the Marquis del Pedroso, one of 
the haughtiest men in this town, to fetch up-stairs 
from the chapel, a heavy gold frame set with jew- 
els, in which the Host is exhibited, for the inspec- 
tion of the company during the hour of recreation 
allowed in the Exercises. No man ever shewed 
such assurance and consciousness of Heaven's dele- 
gated authority as Father Vega, in the Confessional. 
He reads the heart of his penitent — impresses the 
mind with the uselessness of disguise, and relieves 
shame by a strong feeling that he has anticipated 
disclosure. In preaching, his vehemence rivets the 
mind of the hearers ; a wild luxuriance of style en- 
gages them with perpetual variety ; expectation is 
kept alive by the remembered flashes of his wit ; 
while the homely, and even coarse, expressions he 
allows himself, when he feels the whole audience 
already in his power, give him that air of superio- 
rity which seems to set no bounds to the freedom 
of manner. 

" It is however, in his private chapel that Father 
Vega has prepared the grand scene of his triumphs 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



81 



over the hearts of his audience. Twice every day, 
during the Exercises, he kneels for the space of 
one hour, surrounded by his congregation. Day- 
light is excluded, and a candle is so disposed in a 
shade that, without breaking the gloom of the 
chapel, it shines on a full-length sculpture of 
Christ nailed to the Cross, who, with a counte- 
nance where exquisite suffering is blended with the 
most lovely patience, seems to be on the point of 
moving his lips to say — u Father, forgive them !" 
The mind is at first allowed to dwell, in the deepest 
silence, on the images and sentiments with which 
previous reading has furnished it, till the Director, 
warmed with meditation, breaks forth in an im- 
pressive voice, not, however, addressing himself 
to his hearers, from whom he appears completely 
abstracted, but pouring out his heart in the pre- 
sence of the Deity. Silence ensues after a few sen- 
tences, and not many minutes elapse without a 
fresh ejaculation. But the fire gradually kindles 
into a flame. The addresses grow longer and more 
impassioned ; his voice, choked with sobs and 
tears, struggles painfully for utterance, till the stout- 
est hearts are forced to yield to the impression, and 
the chapel resounds with sighs and groans. 

" I cannot but shudder at the recollection that 
my mind was made to undergo such an ordeal at 
the age of fifteen ; for it is a custom of the diocese 
of Seville to prepare the candidates for orders by 

G 



82 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



the Exercises of Saint Ignatius ; and even those 
who are to be incorporated with the clergy by the 
ceremony of the First Tonsure, are not easily spared 
this trial. I was grown up a timid, docile, yet ar- 
dent boy. My soul, as I have already mentioned, 
had been early made to taste the bitterness of re- 
morse, and I now eagerly embraced the offer of 
those expiatory rites which, as I fondly thought, 
were to restore lost innocence, and keep me for 
ever in the straight path of virtue. The shock, 
however, which my spirits felt, might have unnerved 
me for life, and reduced my faculties to a state little 
short of imbecility, had I not received from nature, 
probably as a compensation for a too soft and yield- 
ing heart, an understanding which was born a rebel. 
Yet, I cannot tell whether it was my heart or my 
head, that, in spite of a frighted fancy, endued me 
with resolution to baffle the blind zeal of # my con- 
fessor, when, rinding, during these Exercises, that 
I knew the existence of a prohibited book in the 
possession of a student of divinity, who, out of mere 
good nature, assisted my early studies ; he com- 
manded me to accuse my friend before the Inquisi- 
tion. Often have I been betrayed into a wrong- 
course of thinking, by a desire to assimilate myself 
to those I loved, and thus enjoy that interchange 
of sentiment which forms the luxury of friendship. 
But even the chains of love, the strongest I know 
within the range of nature, could never hold me, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



83 



the moment I conceived that error had bound 
them. This, however, brings me to the history of 
my mind. 

" An innate love of truth, which shewed itself on 
the first developement of my reason, and a conse- 
quent perseverance in the pursuit of it to the extent 
of my knowledge, that has attended me through 
life, saved me from sinking into the dregs of Aris- ^ 
totelic philosophy, which, though discountenanced 
by the Spanish government, are still collected in a 
few filthy pools, fed by the constant exertions of 
the Dominicans. Unfortunately for me, these 
monks have a richly endowed college at Seville, 
where they give lectures on Aristotle and Thomas 
Aquinas, to a few young men whom they recruit 
at the expense of flattering their parents. My 
fathers confessor was a Dominican, and he marked 
me for a divine of his own school. My mother, 
whose heart was with the Jesuits, would fain have 
sent me to the University, where the last remnant 
of their pupils still held the principal chairs. But 
she was informed by the wily monk, that heresy 
had began to creep among the new professors of 
philosophy — heresy of such a horrible tendency, 
that it nearly amounted to polytheism. The evi- 
dence on which this charge was grounded, seemed, 
indeed, irresistible ; for you had only to open the 
second volume of one Altieri, a Neapolitan friar, 
whose Elements of philosophy are still used as a 
class-book at the University of Seville, and you 

g 2 



84 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



would find, in the first pages, that he makes space 
uncreated, infinite, and imperishable. From such 
premises the consequence was evident ; the new 
philosophers were clearly setting up a rival deity. 

" With the usual preparation of a little Latin, 
but in absolute want of all elementary instruction, 
I was sent to begin a course of logic at the Domi- 
nican college. My desire of learning was great in-- 
deed ; but the Categories ad mentem Divi Thomce 
Aquinatis, in a large quarto volume, were unsa- 
voury food for my mind, and, after a few vain ef- 
forts to conquer my aversion, I ended in never 
opening the dismal book. Yet, untrained as I was 
to reading, books were necessary to my happiness. 
In any other country I should have met with a va- 
riety of works, which, furnishing my mind with 
facts and observations, might have led me into 
some useful or agreeable pursuit. But in Spain, 
the chances of lighting on a good book are so few, 
that I must reckon my acquaintance with one that 
could open my mind, among the fortunate events 
of my life. A near relation of mine, a lady, whose 
education had been superior to that commonly 
bestowed on Spanish females, possessed a small 
collection of Spanish and French books. Among 
these were the works of Don Fray Benito Feyjoo, a 
Benedictine monk, who, rising above the intellectual 
level of his country, about the beginning of the pre- 
sent (18th) century, had the boldness to attack every 
established error which was not under the imme- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIfc. 



85 



diate patronage of religion. His mind was endowed 
with extraordinary clearness and acuteness ; and 
having, by an extensive reading of Latin and 
French works, acquired a great mass of information 
on physical and historical subjects, he displayed it, 
with peculiar felicity of expression, in a long series 
of discourses and letters, forming a work of fourteen 
large closely printed volumes.* 

" It was not without difficulty that I obtained 
leave to try whether my mind, which had hitherto 
lain a perfect waste, was strong enough to under- 
stand and relish Feyjoo. But the contents of his 
pages came like the spring showers upon a thirsty 
soil. A mans opinion of the first work he read 
when a boy, cannot safely be trusted ; but, to judge 
from the avidity with which at the age of fifteen I 
devoured fourteen volumes on miscellaneous sub- 
jects, and the surprising impulse they gave to my 
yet unfolded faculties, Feyjoo must be a writer who 
deserves more notice than he has ever obtained 
from his countrymen. If I can trust my recollec- 
tion, he had deeply imbibed the spirit of Lord 
Bacons works, together with his utter contempt of 
the absurd philosophy which has been universally 
taught in Spain, till the last third of the eighteenth 
century. From Bayle, Feyjoo had learned caution 
in weighing historical evidence, and an habitual 

* Feyjoo died in 1765. Several of his Essays were published 
in English by John Brett, Esq. 1780. 



86 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



suspicion of the numberless opinions which, in 
countries unpurified by the wholesome gales of free 
contending thought, are allowed to range unmo- 
lested, for ages, with the same claim to the rights 
of prescription as frogs and insects have to their 
stagnant pools. In a pleasing and popular style, 
Feyjoo acquainted his countrymen with whatever 
discoveries in experimental philosophy had been 
made by Boyle at that time. He declared open 
war against quackery of all kinds. Miracles and 
visions which had not received the sanction of the 
Church of Rome did not escape the scrutinizing 
eye of the bold Benedictine. Such, in fact, was the 
alarm produced by his works on the all-believing 
race for whom he wrote, that nothing but the pa- 
tronage of Ferdinand VI. prevented his being si- 
lenced with the ultima ratio of Spanish divines — the 
Inquisition. 

" Had the power of Aladdin's lamp placed me 
within the richest subterraneous palace described in 
the Arabian Nights, it could not have produced the 
raptures I experienced from the intellectual trea- 
sure of which I now imagined myself the master. 
Physical strength developes itself so gradually, that 
few, I am inclined to think, derive pleasure from a 
sudden start of bodily vigour. But my mind, like 
a young bird in the nest, had lived unconscious of 
its wings, till this unexpected leader had, by his 
boldness, allured it into flight. From a state of 
mere animal life, I found myself at once possessed 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



87 



of the faculty of thinking ; and I can scarcely con- 
ceive, that the soul, emerging after death into a 
higher rank of existence, shall feel and try its new 
powers with a keener delight, My knowledge, it 
is true, was confined to a few physical and histori- 
cal facts ; but I had, all at once, learned to reason, 
to argue, to doubt. To the surprise and alarm of 
my good relatives, I had been changed within a 
few weeks, into a sceptic who, without questioning 
religious subjects, would not allow any one of their 
settled notions to pass for its current value. My 
mother, with her usual penetration, perceived the 
new tendency of my mind, and thanked Heaven, in 
my presence, that Spain was my native country ; 
' else,' she said, c he would soon quit the pale of 
the church.' 

" The main advantage, however, which I owed 
to my new powers, was a speedy emancipation 
from the Aristotelic school of the Dominicans. I 
had, sometimes, dipped into the second volume of 
their Elements of Philosophy, and had found, to 
my utter dismay, that they denied the existence of 
a vacuum — one of my then favourite doctrines — and 
attributed the ascent of liquids by suction, to the 
horror of nature at being wounded and torn. Now, 
it so happened that Feyjoo had given me the clear- 
est notions on the theory of the sucking-pump, and 
the relative gravity of air and water. Nothing, 
therefore, could equal my contempt of those 
monks, who still contended for the whole system of 



88 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



sympathies and antipathies. A reprimand from the 
reverend Professor of Logic, for my utter inatten- 
tion to his lectures, sprung, at length, the mine 
which, charged with the first scraps of learning, 
and brimful of boyish conceit, had long been ready 
to explode. 

u Had the friar remonstrated with me in private, 
my habitual timidity would have sealed up my lips. 
But he rated me before the whole class, and my in- 
dignation fired up at such an indignity. Rising 
from my seat with a courage so new to me that it 
seemed to be inspired, I boldly declared my deter- 
mination not to burden and pervert my mind with 
the absurdities that were taught in their schools. 
Being asked, with a sarcastic smile, which were 
the doctrines that had thus incurred my disappro- 
bation, I visibly surprised the Professor — no bright 
genius himself — with the theory of the sucking- 
pump, and actually nonplus'd him on the mighty 
question of vacuum. To be thus bearded by a strip- 
ling, was more than his professional humility could 
bear. He bade me thank my family for not being 
that moment turned out of the lecture-room ; as- 
suring me, however, that my father should be ac- 
quainted with my impertinence in the course of 
that day. Yet I must do justice to his good-na- 
ture and moderation in checking the students, 
who wished to serve me, like Sancho, with a blan- 
keting. 

u Before the threatened message could reach my 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



89 



father, I had, with great rhetorical skill, engaged 
maternal pride and fear, in my favour. In what 
colours the friar may have painted my impudence, 
I neither learned nor cared : for my mother, whose 
dislike of the Dominicans, as the enemies of the 
Jesuits, had been roused by the public reprimand 
of the Professor, took the whole matter into her 
hands, and before the end of the week, I heard, 
with raptures, that my name was to be entered at 
the University. 

C( Having thus luckily obtained the object of my 
wishes, I soon retrieved my character for industry, 
and received the public thanks of my new Profes- 
sor. What might have been my progress under a 
better system than that of a Spanish university, 
vanity will probably not allow me to judge with 
fairness. I will, therefore, content myself with lay- 
ing a sketch of that system before the reader. 

u The_§panish universities had continued in a 
state worthy of the thirteejrth c^ntajj^ till the year 
Y?70 y wheiiJK^ mi- 
nister of Charles III., gave them an amended plan of 
studies, which though far below the level of know^ 
ledge over the rest of Europe, seems at lej^t.lo re- 
c ognise the progress of the human mind since .the 
revival of letters. The present plan forbids the 
study of the Aristotelic philosophy, and attempts 
the introduction of the inductive system of Bacon ; 
but is shamefully deficient, in the department of 
literature. Three years successive attendance in 



90 



LETTERS FROM STAIN. 



the schools of logic,, natural philosophy, and meta- 
physics, is the only requisite for a masters degree ; 
and, though the examinations are both long and 
severe, few of the Spanish universities have yet al- 
tered the old statute which obliges the candidates 
to draw their Theses from Aristotle's logic and phy- 
sics, and to deliver a long discourse upon one chap- 
ter of each ; thus leaving their daily lectures per- 
fectly at variance with the final examinations. 
Besides these preparatory schools, every university 
has three or four professors of divinity, as many of 
civil and canon law, and seldom less of medicine. 
The students are not required to live i n colleges 
There are, however, establishments of this kind 
for under-graduates ; but being, for the most part, 
intended for a limited number of poor boys, they 
make no part of the Academic system. Yet some 
of these colleges have, by a strange combination of 
circumstances, risen to such a height of splendour 
and influence, that I must digress into a short sketch 
of their history. 

u The original division of Spanish colleges into 
minor and major, arose from the branches of learn- 
ing for which they were intended. Grammar and 
rhetoric alone were taught in the first ; divinity, 
law, and medicine, in the last. Most of the Colcgios 
May ores were, by papal bulls and royal decrees, 
erected into universities, where, besides the fellows, 
students might repair daily to hear the public lec- 
tures, and finally take their degrees. Thus the uni- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



91 



versity of this town (Seville) was, till lately, at- 
tached to this college, the rector or head of which 
elected annually by the fellows, was, by virtue of 
his office, rector of the university. This, and the 
great colleges of Castille, enjoying similar privileges, 
but far exceeding ours in wealth and influence, 
formed the literary aristocracy of Spain. Though 
the statutes gave no exclusion to plebeians, the cir- 
cumstances required in the candidates for fellow- 
ships, together with the esprit de corps which actu- 
ated the electors, confined such places to the no- 
blesse. Anxious to increase their influence, none of 
the six great colleges of Spain could ever be in- 
duced to elect any one who was not connected with 
some of the best families. This, however, was but 
a prudential step, to avoid the public disgrace to 
which the pruebas, or interrogatories relative to 
blood, might otherwise expose the candidates. One 
of the fellows was, and is still at Seville, according 
to the statutes, to repair to the birth-place of the 
parents of the elected member, as well as to those 
of his two grandfathers and grandmothers — except 
when any of them is a foreigner, a circumstance 
which prevents the journey, though not the inquiry 
— in order to examine upon oath, from fifteen to 
thirty witnesses at each place. These, either from 
their own knowledge, or the current report of the 
town, must swear that the ancestor in question 
never was a menial servant, a shopkeeper or petty 
tradesman ; a mechanic ; had neither himself, nor any 



92 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



of his relations, been punished by the Inquisition, 
nor was descended from Jews, Moors, Africans, 
Indians, or Guanchos, i. e. the aborigines of the 
Canary Islands. It is evident that none but the 
hereditary gentry could expose themselves to this 
ordeal : and as the pride of the reporter, together 
with the character of his college, were highly in- 
terested in the purity of blood of every member, no 
room was left for the evasions commonly resorted 
to for the admission of knights in the military 
orders. 

" Thus, in the course of years, the six great col- 
leges* could command the influence of the first 
Spanish families all over the kingdom. It was, 
besides, a point of honour among such as had ob- 
tained a fellowship, never to desert the interest of 
their college : and, as every cathedral in Spain has 
three canonries, which must be obtained by a lite- 
rary competition, of which the canons themselves 
are the judges, wherever a Colegidl Mayor had ob- 
tained a stall, he was able to secure a strong party 
to any one of his college who should offer himself 
as a champion at those literary jousts. The chap- 

* There exist in Spain some other colleges which are also 
called mayores ; but none, except four at Salamanca, one at 
Valladolid, and one at Seville, were reckoned as a part of the li- 
terary aristocracy of the country. None but these had the privi- 
lege of referring- all their interests and concerns to a committee 
of the supreme council of the nation, expressly named for that 
purpose. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



93 



ters, on the other hand,, were generally inclined to 
strengthen their own importance by the accession 
of people of rank, leaving poor and unknown 
scholars to grovel in their native obscurity. No 
place of honour in the church and law was left un- 
occupied by the collegians : and even the distribu- 
tion which those powerful bodies made of their 
members — as if not only all the best offices and si- 
tuations,, but even a choice of them, were in their 
hands — was no secret to the country at large. 
Fellows in orders, who possessed abilities, were 
kept in reserve for the literary competitions. Such 
as could not appear to advantage at those public 
trials were, by means of court favour, provided for 
with stalls in the wealthiest cathedrals. The ab- 
solutely dull and ignorant were made inquisitors, 
who, passing judgment in their secret halls, could 
not disgrace the college by their blunders. Medi- 
cine not being in honour, there were no fellows of 
that profession. The lay members of the major 
colleges belonged exclusively to the law, but they 
would never quit their fellowships except for a place 
among the judges. Even in the present low ebb 
of collegiate influence, the College of Seville would 
disown any of the fellows who should act as a mere 
advocate. 

" While the colleges were still at the height of 
their power, a young lawyer offered himself for one 
of the fellowships at Salamanca, and was disdain- 
fully rejected for want of sufficient proofs of noblesse. 



94 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



By an extraordinary combination of circumstances^ 
the offended candidate rose to be prime minister of 
state, under Charles III., with the title of Marquis 
of Roda. The extraordinary success he had met 
with in public life, could not, however, heal the 
wound his pride had received in his youth. But, 
besides the inducement of his private feelings, he 
seems to have been an enemy to all influence which 
was not exerted by the king and his ministers. 
Two powerful bodies, the Jesuits and the colleges, 
engrossed so forcibly, and, I may say, painfully, his 
attention, that it was wittily observed, e that the 
spectacles he wore had painted glasses, one repre- 
senting a Jesuit, the other a collegian' — and thus al- 
lowed him to see nothing else. The destruction to 
which he had doomed them was, at length, accom- 
plished by his means. His main triumph was, indeed, 
over the Jesuits : yet his success against the colleges, 
though certainly less splendid, was the more grati- 
fying to his personal feelings. The method he em- 
ployed in the downfall of the last' is not unworthy 
of notice, both for its perfect simplicty, and the 
light it throws upon the state and character of the 
country. Having the whole patronage of the 
Crown in his hands, he placed, within a short time, 
all the existing members of the Salamanca colleges, 
in the most desirable situations both of the church 
and law, filling their vacancies with yoling men of 
no family. Thus the bond of collegiate influence 
was suddenly snapped asunder: the old members 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



95 



disowned their successors ; and such as a few days 
before looked upon a fellowship as an object of 
ambition, would have felt mortified at the sight 
of a relative wearing the gown of a reformed col- 
lege. The Colegio Mayor of Seville was attacked 
by other means. Without enforcing the admission 
of the unprivileged classes, the minister, by an 
arbitrary order, deprived it of its right to confer 
degrees. The convocation of doctors and masters 
was empowered to elect their own rector, and 
name professors for the schools, which were sub- 
sequently opened to the public in one of the desert- 
ed houses that had belonged to the Jesuits. Such 
is the origin of the university where I received my 
education. 

" a 
young mind can derive from academical studies in 
Spain. To expect a rationai system of education 
wFere the Inquisition is constantly on the watch "to" 
keep the human mind within the boundaries which 
the Church of Rome, With her host of divines, Has 
set to its progress ; would shew a perfect ignorance 
of the character of our religion. Thanks to the 
league between our church and state, the Catholic 
divines have nearly succeeded in keeping down 
knowledge to their own level. Even such branches 
of science as seem least connected with religion, 
cannot escape the theological rod ; and the spirit 
which made Galileo recant upon his knees his dis- 
coveries in astronomy, still compels our professors 



96 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



to teach the Copernican system as an hypothesis. 
The truth is that, with Catholic divines, no one 
pursuit of the human mind is independent of reli- 
gion. Since the first appearance of Christianity, its 
doctrines have ever been blended with the philoso- 
phical views of their teachers. The scriptures 
themselves, invaluable as they are in forming the 
moral character, frequently touch, by incident, upon 
subjects unconnected with their main object, and 
treat of nature and civil society according to the 
notions of a rude people in a very primitive period. 
Hence the encroachments of divines upon every 
branch of human knowledge, which are still sup- 
ported by the hand of power in a great part of 
Europe, but in none so outrageously as in Spain. 
Astronomy must ask the inquisitors' leave to see 
with her own eyes. Geography was long com- 
pelled to shrink before them. Divines were made 
the judges of Columbus's plans of discovery, as well 
as to allot a species to the Americans. A spectre 
monk haunts the Geologist in the lowest cavities of 
the earth ; and one of flesh and blood watches the 
steps of the philosopher on its surface. Anatomy 
is suspected, and watched closely, whenever she 
takes up the scalpel ; and Medicine had many a 
pang to endure while endeavouring to expunge the 
use of bark and inoculation from the catalogue of 
mortal sins. You must not only believe what the 
Inquisition believes, but yield implicit faith to the 
theories and explanations of her divines, To ac- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 97 

knowlege on the authority of Revelation, that man- 
kind will rise from their graves, is not sufficient 
to protect the unfortunate Metaphysician, who 
should deny that man is a compound of two sub- 
stances, one of which is naturally immortal. It 
was long a great obstacle to the rejection of the 
Aristotelic philosophy, that the substantial forms 
of the schools were found an exceedingly conve- 
nient veil for the invisible work of transubstantia- 
tion ; for our good divines shrewdly suspected, that 
if colour, taste, smell, and all the other properties 
of bodies were allowed to be mere accidents — the 
bare impressions on our sense of one variously 
modified substance — it might be plausibly urged 
that, in the consecrated Host, the body of Christ 
had been converted into bread, not the bread into 
that body. But it would be endless and tedious to 
trace all the links, of which the Inquisition has 
formed the chain that binds and weighs down the 
human mind among us. Acquiescence in the 
voluminous and multifarious creed of the Roman 
church is by no means sufficient for safety. A man 
who closes his work with the O. S. C. S. R. E. 
( Omnia sub correctione Sanctcz Romanes Ecclesim ) 
may yet rue the moment when he took pen in hand. 
Heterodoxy may be easily avoided in writing ; but 
who can be sure that none of his periods smacks of 
heresy (sapiens hreresim) — none of his sentences 
are of that uncouth species which is apt to grate 
pious ears (piarum aurium offensivas) ? Who then 

H 



98 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

will venture upon the path of knowledge, where 
it leads straight to the Inquisition ?* 

€e Yet such is the energy of the human mind, 
when once acquainted with its own powers, that 
the best organized system of intellectual tyranny, 
though so far successful as to prevent Spanish 
talent from bringing any fruit to maturity, fails 
most completely of checking its activity. Could I 
but accurately draw the picture of an ingenuous 
young mind struggling with the obstacles which 
Spanish education opposes to improvement — the 
alarm at the springing suspicions of being purposely 
betrayed into error — the superstitious fears that 
check its first longings after liberty — the honest 
and ingenious casuistry by which it encourages 
itself to leave the prescribed path — the maiden joy 
and fear of the first transgression — the rapidly-grow- 
ing love of newly discovered truth, and consequent 
hatred of its tyrants — the final despair and wild 
phrenzy that possess it on finding its doom in- 
evitable, on seeing with an appalling evidence, that 
its best exertions are lost, that ignorance, bigotry, 

* U s'est e*tabli dans Madrid un systeme de liberty sur 

la vente des productions, qui s'£tend m£me a celles dela presse j 
et que, pourvu que je ne parle en mes 6crits ni de l'autorite, ni 
du culte, ni de la politique, ni de la morale, ni des gens en place, 
ni des corps en credit, ni de l'Opera, ni des autres spectacles, ni 
de personne qui tienne a quelque chose, je puis tout imprimer 
librement, sous l'inspection de deux ou trois censeurs. — Mar- 
riage de Figaro, Act 5, Sc. 3. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



99 



and superstition claim and can enforce its homage 
— no plot of romance would be read with more in- 
terest by such as are not indifferent to the noblest 
concerns of mankind. As I cannot, however, pre- 
sent an animated picture, I shall proceed with a 
statement of facts. 

" An imperfect knowledge of logic and natural 
philosophy was all I acquired at the university 
before I began the study of divinity ; and like most 
of my countrymen, I should have completed my 
studies without so much as suspecting the exist- 
ence of elegant literature, had it not been for my 
acquaintance with an excellent young man, much 
my senior at the university, who, by his own un- 
assisted industry, had made some progress in the 
study and imitation of the classics.* To him I 
owed my first acquaintance with Spanish poetry, 
and my earliest attempts at composition in my own 
language. My good fortune led me, but a short 
time after, to a member of the Colegio Mayor 
of this town — another self-imp roved man, whose 
extraordinary talents having enabled him, at the 
age of nineteen, to cast a gleam of good taste over 
the system of his own university of Osuna, made 
him subsequently, at Seville, the centre of a small 
club of students. -f- Through the influence of his 
genius, and the gratuitous assistance he gave them 

* Don Manuel Mavia del Marinol. 
•f Don Manuel Maria de Arjona. 
H 2 



100 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



in their studies, some of his private pupils rose so 
far above the mass of their academical fellows, as 
to shew by the fair, though scanty, produce of 
their minds, the rich promise which the state of 
their country yearly blasts. 

" In all the Spanish universities with which 
I am acquainted, I have observed a similar strug- 
gle between enterprising genius and constituted ig- 
norance. Valencia, Granada, the college of San 
Fulgencio at Murcia ; Salamanca, above all, and 
Seville, the least among them ; have exhibited 
symptoms of rebellion, arising from the undaunted 
ardour of some young members, who having opened 
for themselves a path to knowledge, would, at some 
time or other, make a desperate effort to allure 
the rising generation to follow their steps. The 
boldest champions in this hopeless contest, have 
generally started among the professors of moral 
philosophy. Government had confined them to 
the puny Elements of Jacquier and Heinnecius ; 
but a mind once set on " the proper study of man- 
kind," must be weak indeed not to extend its 
views beyond the limits prescribed by the igno- 
rance of a despot or his ministers. With alarm 
and consternation to the white-tasselled heads, # and 

* A coloured tassel on the cap is, in Spain, the peculiar 
distinction of doctors and masters. White, denotes divinity : 
green, canon law : crimson, civil law : yellow, medicine ; and 
blue, arts, i. e. philosophy. Those caps are worn only on public 
occasions at the universities. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



101 



thrilling hopes to their secret enemies, connected 
series of Theses have of late appeared among us, 
which, in spite of the studied caution of their 
language, betrayed both their origin and tendency. 
Genuine offspring of the French school, the very 
turn of their phrases gave strong indications of a 
style formed in defiance of the Holy Inquisition. 
But these fits of restless impatience have only 
secured the yoke the}^ were intended to loosen. 
I have visited Salamanca after the great defeat of 
the philosophical party, the strongest that ever 
was formed in Spain. A man of first-rate literary 
character among us,^ whom merit and court favour 
had raised to one of the chief seats in the judicature 
of the country, but whom court caprice had, about 
this time, sent to rusticate at Salamanca, was doing 
me the honours of the place, when, approaching the 
convocation-hall of the university, we perceived the 
members of the faculty of divinity strolling about, 
while waiting for a meeting of their body. A runaway 
slave, still bearing the marks of the lash on his 
return, could not have shrunk more instinctively at 
the sight of the planters meeting at the council- 
room, than my friend did at the view of the cowls, 
e white, black, and grey,' which partially hid the 
sleek faces of his offended masters. He had, it is 
true, been lucky enough to escape the imprison- 
ment and subsequent penance in a monastery 



* Melendez Valdez. 



102 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



which was the sad lot of the chief of his routed 
party ; but he himself was still suspected and 
watched closely. The rest of his friends, the flower 
of the university, had been kept for three or four 
years., in constant fear of their personal liberty, 
being often called before the secret tribunal to 
answer the most captious interrogatories about 
themselves and their acquaintance, but never put 
in possession of every count of the indictment. 
After this and a few such examples, we have, at last, 
perceived the folly of engaging in a desperate game, 
where no possible combination can, for the present, 
give the dissenting party a single chance of success. 

"French philosophy had not found its way to 
the university of Seville, at the time when I was 
studying divinity. Even the knowledge of the 
French language was a rare acquirement both 
among the professors and their hearers. I have 
mentioned, at the beginning of this sketch, that one 
of the few books which delighted my childhood 
was a Spanish translation of Telemachus. A for- 
tunate incident had now thrown into my hands the 
original of my old favourite, and I attempted to un- 
derstand a few lines by comparing them with the 
version. My success exceeded my hopes. Without 
either grammar or dictionary, I could, in a few 
weeks, read on : guessing a great deal, it is true, but 
visibly improving my knowledge of the idiom by 
comparing the force of unknown words in different 
passages. An odd volume of Racine's tragedies 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



103 



was my next French book. Imperfectly as I must 
have understood that tender and elegant poet, his 
plays gave me so much pleasure, that by repeated 
readings I found myself able to understand French 
poetry. It was about this time that I made my 
invaluable acquaintance at our college. My friend 
had learned both French and Italian in a similar 
manner with myself. He was acquainted with one 
of the judges of our Audiencia, or provincial court 
of judicature, a man of great literary celebrity,* 
who possessed a very good library, from whence I 
was indulged with French books, as well as Italian ; 
for by a little ingenuity and the analogy of my own 
language, I had also enabled myself to read the 
language of Petrarch. 

" Hitherto I had never had courage enough to 
take a^fbidffen^o^k^w wyr hands. The excom- 
munication impending over me by the words ipso 
facto, was indeed too terrific an object for my inex- 
perienced mind. Delighted with my newly ac- 
quired taste for poetry and eloquence, I had 
never brooded over any religious doubts — or rather, 
sincerely adhering to the Roman Catholic law, 
which makes the examination of such doubts as great 
a crime as the denial of the article of belief they 
affect, I had always shrunk with terror from every 
heterodox suggestion. But my now intimate friend 
and guide had made canon law his profession. 



* Don Juan Pablo Vomer. 



104 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Ecclesiastical history, in which he was deeply 
versed, had, without weakening his Catholic prin- 
ciples, made him a pupil of that school of canonists 
who, both in Germany and France, having exposed 
the forgeries, by means of w hich papal power had 
made itself paramount to every human authority, 
were but too visibly disposed to a separation from 
Rome. My friend denied the existence of any 
power in the Church to inflict excommunication, 
without a declaratory sentence in consequence of 
the trial of the offender. Upon the strength of this 
doctrine, he made me read the 6 Discourses on 
Ecclesiastical History,' by the Abbe Fleury — a 
work teeming with invective against monks and 
friars, doubts on modern miracles, and strictures 
on the virtues of modern saints. Eve's heart, I 
confess, when 

— her rash hand in evil hour 

Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she ate, 

could not have beaten more convulsively than mine, 
as I opened the forbidden book. Vague fears and 
doubts haunted my conscience for many days. 
But my friend, besides being a sound Catholic, 
was a devout man. He had lately taken priest's 
orders, and was now not only my literary bat my 
spiritual director. His abilities and his affection 
to me had obtained a most perfect command over 
my mind, and it was not long before I could match 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



105 



him in mental boldness, on points unconnected 
with articles of faith. 

" This was, indeed, the happiest period of my 
life. The greatest part of my time, with the ex- 
ception of that required for my daily attendance at 
the dull lectures of the divinity professors, was 
devoted to the French critics, Andre, Le Bossu, 
Batteux, Rollm, La Harpe, and many others of 
less note. The habit of analyzing language and 
ideas, which I acquired in the perusal of such 
works, soon led me to some of the French meta- 
physicians, especially Condillac. 

" It was the favourite amusement of myself and 
those constant associates of my youth that formed 
the knot of friends, of whom the often mentioned 
Colegidl Mayor was the centre and guide ; to exa- 
mine all our feelings, in order to resolve them into 
some general law, and trace them to their simple 
elements. This habit of analysis and generalization 
extended itself to the customs and habits of the 
country, and the daily incidents of life, till in the 
course of time it produced in me the deceitful, 
though not uncommon notion, that all knowledge 
is the result of developed principles, and gave me a 
distaste for every book that was not cast into a 
regular theory. 

" While I was thus amused and deceived bv the 
activity of my mind, without endeavouring to give 
it the weight and steadiness which depends upon 
the knowledge of facts ; Catholicism, with its ten 



106 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



thousand rules and practices, was mechanically 
keeping up the ill-contrived structure of devotion, 
which it had raised more in my fancy than my 
heart. It had now to contend, however, with an 
enemy whom nothing but fixed hope can keep 
within bounds — but religion had left me no hope. 
Instead of engaging love on her side, she had forced 
him into an inseparable league with immorality. I 
will not describe the misery that embittered my 
youth, and destroyed the peace of my maturer 
years — the struggles, perhaps the crimes, certainly 
the remorse, that were in me the consequence of 
the barbarous laws of my country. They are too 
intimately blended with self, too intricately entwin- 
ed with the feelings of others, to be left exposed 
for ever to the cold indifference of the mul- 
titude. Whatever on this point is connected 
with the general state of Spain, has already 
been touched upon. Mine, indeed, is the lot 
of thousands. Often did I recoil at the approach 
of the moment when I was to bind myself 
for ever to the clerical profession, and as often my 
heart failed me at the sight of a mother in tears ! 
It was no worldly interest — it was the eternal wel- 
fare of my soul, which she believed to depend on 
my following the call of Heaven, that made the 
best of mothers a snare to her dearest child. The 
persuasions of my confessor, and, above all, the 
happiness I experienced in restoring cheerfulness 
to my family, deluded me into the hope of preserv- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



107 



mg the same feeling through life. A very short 
time, however, was sufficient to open my eyes. 
The inexorable law that bound me, was the bitter- 
est foe to my virtue. Yet devotion had not lost her 
power over my fancy, and I broke loose, more than 
once, from her thraldom, and was as often reclaim- 
ed, before the awful period which was to raise me to 
the priesthood. 

" If mental excitement, attended with the most 
thrilling and sublime sensations, the effect of 
deception, could be indulged without injury to 
our noblest faculties— if life could be made a 
long dream without the painful startings produced 
by the din and collision of the world — if the opium 
of delusion could be largely administered without a 
complete enervation of our rational energies — the 
lot of a man of feeling, brought up in the undisturbed 
belief of the Catholic doctrines, and raised to be a 
dispenser of its mysteries ; would be enviable above 
all others. No abstract belief, if I am to trust 
my experience, can either sooth our fears or feed 
our hopes, independently of the imagination ; and 
I am strongly inclined to assert, that no genuine 
persuasion exists upon unearthly subjects, without 
the co-operation of the imaginative faculty. Hence 
the powerful effects of the splendid and striking 
system of worship adopted by the Roman church. 
A foreigner may be inclined to laugh at the strange 
ceremonies performed in a Spanish cathedral, be- 
cause these ceremonies are a conventional language 



1-08 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



to which he attaches no ideas. But he that from 
the cradle has been accustomed to kiss the hand of 
the priest, and receive his blessing — that has 
associated the name and attributes of the Deity with 
the consecrated bread— that has observed the awe 
with which it is handled — how none but annointed 
hands dare touch it — what clouds of incense, what 
brilliancy of gems surround it when exposed to the 
view — with what heartfelt anxiety the glare of 
lights, the sound of music, and the uninterrupted 
adoration of the priests in waitings are made to 
evince the overpowering feeling of a God dwelling 
among men — such a man alone can conceive the 
state of a warm-hearted youth, who, for the first 
time approaches the altar, not as a mere attend- 
ant, but as the sole worker of the greatest of mira- 
cles. 

" No language can do justice to my own feelings 
at the ceremony of ordination, the performance of 
the first mass, and during the interval which 
elapsed between this fever of enthusiasm and the 
cold sceptism that soon followed it. For some 
months previous to the awful ceremony I volunta- 
rily secluded myself from the world, making reli- 
gious reading and meditation the sole employment 
of my time. The Exercises of Saint Ignatius, 
which immediately preceded the day of ordination, 
filled my heart with what appeared to me a settled 
distaste for every wordly pleasure. When the con- 
secrating rights had been performed — when my 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



109 



hands had been annointed — the sacred vesture, at 
first folded on my shoulders, let drop around me by 
the hands of the bishop — the sublime hymn to the 
all-creating Spirit uttered in solemn strains, and the 
power of restoring sinners to innocence, conferred 
upon me — when, at length, raised to the dignity of 
a c fellow-worker with God,' the bishop addressed 
me, in the name of the Saviour : c Henceforth I 
call you not servant .... but I have called you 
friend ;' I truly felt as if, freed from the material 
part of my being, I belonged to a higher rank of 
existence. I had still a heart, it is true — a heart 
ready to burst at the sight of my parents, on their 
knees, while impressing the first kiss on my newly- 
consecrated hands ; but it was dead to the charms 
of beauty. Among the friendly crowd that sur- 
rounded me for the same purpose, were those hps 
which a few months before I would have died to 
press ; yet I could but just mark their superior 
softness. In vain did I exert myself to check exu- 
berance of feelings at my first mass. My tears be- 
dewed the corporals on which, with the eyes of 
faith, I beheld the disguised lover of mankind whom 
I had drawn from heaven to my hands. These are 
dreams, indeed, — the illusions of an over-heated 
fancy ; but dreams they are which some of the 
noblest minds have dreamt through life without 
waking — dreams which, while passing vividly be- 
fore the mental eye, must entirely wrap up the soul 
of every one who is neither more nor less than a man. 



110 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



" To exercise the privileges of my office for the 
benefit of my fellow-creatures, was now my exclu- 
sive aim and purpose. I daily celebrated mass, with 
due preparation, preached often, and rejected none 
that applied to me for confession. The best ascetic 
writers of the Church of Rome were constantly in 
my hands. I made a study of the Fathers ; but, 
though I had the Scriptures among my books, it 
was, according to custom, more for reference than 
perusal. These feelings, this state of mental ab- 
straction, is by no means uncommon, for a time, 
among young priests whose hearts have not been 
withered by a course of premature profligacy. It 
would be absurd to expect it in such as embrace 
the clerical state as a trade, or are led to the church 
by ambition, and least of all among the few that 
would never bind them selves with the la ws of celibacy, 
had they not previously freed their minds from all 
religious fears. Yet, among my numerous acquaint- 
ance in the Spanish clergy, I have never met with 
any one, possessed of bold talents, who has not, 
sooner or later, changed from the most sincere piety 
to a state of unbelief.* Were every individual who 
has undergone this internal transformation to de- 
scribe the steps by which it was accomplished, I 
doubt not but the general outline would prove alike 
in all. I shall, however, conclude my narrative by 
faithfully relating the origin and progress of the 



* See Note E. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Ill 



total change that took place in my mind within 
little more than a year after taking priest's orders. 

" The ideas of consistency and perfection are 
strongly attached by every sincere Catholic to his 
system of faith. The church of Rome has played 
for many centuries a desperate though, till lately, 
a successful game. Having once proclaimed the 
necessity of an abtract creed for salvation, and 
made herself the infallible framer and expounder 
of that creed, she leaves her votaries no alternative 
but that of receiving or rejecting the whole of her 
doctrines. Luckily for her interests, men seldom 
go beyond a certain link in the chain of thought, 
or allow themselves to look into the sources of 
traditionary doctrines. Her theological system on 
the other hand, having so shaped its gradual growth 
as to fill up deficiencies as they were perceived, 
affords an ample range to every mind that, without 
venturing to examine the foundations, shall be con- 
tented with the symmetry, of the structure. I 
have often heard the question, how could such 
men as Bossuet and Fenelon adhere to the church 
of Rome and reject the Protestant faith ? The 
answer appears to me obvious. Because, accord- 
ing to their fixed principles on this matter, they 
must have been either Catholics or Infidels. Lay- 
ing it down as an axiom, that Christianity was 
chiefly intended to reveal a system of doctrines ne- 
cessary for salvation, they naturally and con- 
sistently inferred the existence of an authorized 



112 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



judge upon questions of faith, otherwise the in- 
evitable doubts arising from private judgment would 

defeat the object of revelation. Thus it is that 
Bossuet thought he had triumphantly confuted the 
Protestants by merely shewing that they could not 
agree in their Articles. Like Bossuet, most Catholic 
divines can see no medium between denying the 
infallible authority of the Church and rejecting 
revelation. 

u No proposition in Euclid could convey stronger 
conviction to my mind than that which I found in 
this dilemma. Let me but prove, said I to myself, 
that there exists a single flaw in the system, and it 
will all crumble into dust Yet, as in a Catholic, 
c once to doubt is once to be resolved,' I might have 
eternally closed my eyes, like many others, against 
the impression of the most glaring falsehoods ; for 
how could I retrieve the rash step of holding my 
judgment in suspense while I examined ? The 
most hideous crimes fall within the jurisdiction of 
a confessor ; but the mortal taint of heresy can- 
not be removed except by the Pope's delegated 
authority, which, in Spain, he has deposited in the 
hands of the Inquisition. Should I deliberately 
indulge my doubts for a moment, what a mountain 
of crime and misery I should bring upon my head ! 
My office would, probably, lay me under the ne- 
cessity of celebrating mass the next day, which, to 
do with a consciousness of unabsolved sin, is sacri- 
lege ; while this particular offence would besides 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



involve me in the ecclesiastical sentence of suspen- 
sion and interdict. The recurring necessity of 
officiating at the altar, before I could remove these 
inabilities, would increase them every day tenfold, 
and give my life a foretaste of the torturing fire to 
which I should be doomed by the sentence of my 
church. These fears are not peculiar to timid or 
weak characters : they are the legitimate conse- 
quences of a consistent and complicated system, and 
cannot be dispelled but by a decided rejection of 
the whole. 

The involuntary train, however, both of feeling 
and thought, which was to make me break out 
into complete rebellion, had long been sapping 
the foundations of my faith, without my being 
aware that the whole structure nodded to its ruin. 
A dull sense of existence, a heaviness that palled 
my taste for life and its concerns, had succeeded 
my first ardour of devotion. Conscientiously faith- 
ful to my engagements, and secluded from every 
object that might ruffle the calm of my heart, 1 
looked for happiness in the performance of my 
duty. But happiness was fled from me ; and, 
though totally exempt from remorse, I could not 
bear the death-like silence of my soul. An unmean- 
ing and extremely burdensome practice laid by the 
Church of Rome upon her clergy, contributed not 
a little to increase the irksomeness of my circum- 
stances. A Catholic clergyman, who employs his 
whole day in the discharge of his duty to others, 

i 



114 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



must yet repeat to himself the service of the day in 
an audible voice — a performance which neither 
constant practice, nor the most rapid utterance can 
bring within the compass of less than an hour and 
a half in the four-and-twenty. This exhausting 
exercise is enjoined under pain of mortal sin, and 
the restitution of that day's income on which any 
portion of the office is omitted. 

" Was mine a life of usefulness ? — Did not the 
world, with all its struggles, its miseries, and its 
vices, hold out nobler and more exalted ends 
than this tame and deadening system of per- 
fection ? How strong must be the probability of 
future reward, to balance the actual certainty of 
such prolonged misery ? Suppose, however, the 
reality and magnitude of the recompence — am I 
not daily, and hourly, in danger of eternal perdi- 
tion ? My heart sinks at the view of the intermin- 
able list of offences ; every one of which may finally 
plunge me into the everlasting flames. Everlasting! 
and why so ? Can there be revenge or cruelty in the 
Almighty ? Such were the harassing thoughts with 
which I wrestled day and night. Prostrate upon 
my knees I daily prayed for deliverance ; but my 
prayers were not heard. I tried to strengthen my 
faith by reading Bergier, and some of the French 
Apologists. But what can they avail a doubting 
Catholic ? His system of faith being indivisible, 
the evidences of Christianity lead him to the most 
glaring absurdities. To argue with a doubting 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 115 

Catholic is to encourage and hasten his desertion. 
Chateaubriand has perfectly understood the nature 
of his task, and by engaging the feelings and ima- 
gination in defence of his creed, has given it the 
fairest chance against the dry and tasteless philoso- 
phy of his countrymen. His book* propped up 
my faith for a while. 

u Almost on the eve of my mental crisis, I had to 
preach a sermon upon an extraordinary occasion ; 
when, according to a fashion derived from France, a 
long and elaborate discourse was expected. I made 
infidelity my subject, with a most sincere desire of 
convincing myself while I laboured to persuade 
others. What eifect my arguments may have had 
upon the audience I know not ; they were certainly 
lost upon the orator. Whatever, in this state, could 
break the habit of awe which I was so tenaciously 
supporting — whatever could urge me into uttering 
a doubt on one of the Articles of the Roman Creed, 
was sure to make my faith vanish like a soap-bubble 
in the air. I had been too earnest in my devotion, 
and my Church too pressing and demanding. Like 
a cold, artful, interested mistress, that Church either 
exhausts the ardour of her best lovers, or harasses 
them to destruction. As to myself, a moment's 
dalliance with her great rival, Freedom, converted 
my former love into perfect abhorrence. 

One morning, as I was wrapt up in my usual 



* " Beauties of Christianity," 3 vols. 8vo. 
T 2 



116 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



thoughts, on the banks of the Guadalquivir, a gen- 
tleman, who had lately been named by the govern- 
ment to an important place in our provincial judi- 
cature, joined me in the course of my ramble. 
We had been acquainted but a short time, and he, 
though forced into caution by an early danger from 
the Inquisition, was still friendly and communica- 
tive. His talents of forensic eloquence, and the 
sprightliness and elegance of his conversation, had 
induced a conviction on my mind, that he belonged 
to the philosophical party of the university where 
he had been educated. Urged by an irresistible im- 
pulse, I ventured with him upon neutral ground — 
monks, ecclesiastical encroachments, extravagant 
devotion— till the stream of thought I had thus al- 
allowed to glide over the feeble mound of my fears, 
swelling every moment, broke forth as a torrent 
from its long and violent confinement. I was listen- 
ed to with encouraging kindness, and there was not 
a doubt in my heart which I did not disclose. 
Doubts they had, indeed, appeared to me till that 
moment ; but utterance tranformed them, at once, 
into demonstrations. It would be impossible to 
describe the fear and trepidation that seized me the 
moment I parted from my good-natured confidant. 
The prisons of the Inquisition seemed ready to 
close their studded gates upon me ; and the very 
hell I had just denied, appeared yawning before 
my eyes. Yet, a few days elapsed, and no evil had 
overtaken me. I performed mass with a heart in 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



117 



open rebellion to the Church that enjoined it : but 
I had now settled with myself to offer it up to my 
Creator, as I imagine that the enlightened Greeks 
and Romans must have done their sacrifices. I was 
like them, forced to express my thankfulness in 
an absurd language. 

" This first taste of mental liberty was more de- 
licious than any feeling T ever experienced ; but it 
was succeeded by a burning thirst for every thing 
that, J^^^3lmyMg,,MZ, °ld menTal" habits, ^coutcl 
strengthexi-: i and,,.confirm my" unbelief; I gave, ..an 
exorbitant price for any French irreligious books, 
which the love of gain induced some Spanish book- 
sellers to import at their peril. The intuitive know- 
ledge of one another, which persecuted principles 
impart to such as cherish them in common, made 
me soon acquainted with several members of my 
own profession, deeply versed in the philosophical 
school of France. They possessed, and made no 
difficulty to lend me, all the A nti christian works, 
which teemed from the French press. "'"'Where there 
is no liberty, there can be no discrimination. The 
ravenous appetite raised by forced abstinence makes 
the mind gorge itself with all sorts of food. I sus- 
pect I have thus imbibed some false, and many 
crude notions from my French masters. But my 
circumstances preclude the calm and dispassionate 
examination which the subject deserves. Exaspe- 
rated by the daily necessity of external submission 
to doctrines and persons I detest and despise, my 



118 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



soul overflows with bitterness. Though I acknow- 
ledge the advantages of moderation, none being 
used towards me, I practically, and in spite of my 
better judgment, learn to be a fanatic on my own 
side. 

" Pretending studious retirement, I have fitted 
up a small room, to which none but my confiden- 
tial friends find admittance. There lie my prohi- 
bited hooks, in perfect concealment, in a well-con- 
trived nook under a staircase. The Breviary alone, 
in its black-binding, clasps, and gilt leaves, is kept 
upon the table, to check the suspicions of any 
chance intruder." 



LETTERS FROM SFALN. 



119 



LETTER IV, 

Seville 

An unexpected event has, since my last, thrown 
the inhabitants of this town into raptures of joy. 
The bull-fights which, by a royal order, had been 
discontinued for several years, were lately granted 
to the wishes of the people. The news of the most 
decisive victory could not have more elated the 
spirits of the Andalusians, or roused them into 
greater activity. No time was lost in making the 
necessary preparations. In the course of a few 
weeks all was ready for the exhibition, while every 
heart beat high with joyful expectation of the ap- 
pointed day which was to usher in the favourite 
amusement. 

You should be told, however, that Seville is ac- 
knowledged, on all hands, to have carried these 
fights to perfection. To her school of bullmanship, 
that art owes all its refinements. Bull-figh ting is 
considered by many of our young men of fashion 
a high and becoming accomplishment ; and mi- 
micking the scenes of the amphitheatre forms the 
chief amusement among boys of all ranks in Anda- 



120 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

lusia. The boy who personates the most important 
character in the drama — the bull — is furnished 
with a large piece of board, armed in front, with 
the natural weapons of the animal, and having 
handles fastened to the lower surface. By the last 
the boy keeps the machine steady on the top of the 
head, and with the former he unmercifully pushes 
such of his antagonists as are not dexterous enough 
to evade, or sufficiently swift to escape him. The 
fighters have small darts, pointed with pins, which 
they endeavour to fix on a piece of cork stuck flat 
on the horned board, till at length the bull falls, 
according to rule, at the touch of a wooden sword. 

Our young country-gentlemen have a substitute 
for the regular bull-fights, much more approaching 
to reality. About the beginning of summer, the 
great breeders of black cattle — generally men of 
rank and fortune — send an invitation to their neigh- 
bours to be present at the trial of the yearlings, in 
order to select those that are to be reserved for the 
amphitheatre. The greatest festivity prevails at 
these meetings. A temporary scaffolding is raised 
round the walls of a very large court, for the ac- 
commodation of the ladies. The gentlemen attend 
on horseback, dressed in short loose jackets of silk, 
chintz, or dimity, the sleeves of which are not 
sewed to the body, but laced with broad ribbons of 
a suitable colour, swelling not ungracefully round 
the top of the shoulders. A profusion of hanging 
buttons, either silver or gold, mostly silver gilt, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



121 



twinkle in numerous rows round the wrists of both 
sexes. The saddles, called Albardones, to distin- 
guish them from the peak-saddle, which is seldom 
used in Andalusia, rise about a foot before and be- 
hind in a triangular shape. The stirrups are iron 
boxes, open on both sides, and affording a com- 
plete rest the whole length of the foot. Both coun- 
try-people and gentlemen riding in these saddles, 
use the stirrups so short, that, in defiance of all the 
rules of manege, the knees and toes project from 
the side of the horse, and, when galloping, the rider 
appears to kneel on its back. A white beaver-hat, 
of rather more than two feet diameter, fastened 
under the chin by a ribbon, was till lately worn at 
these sports, and is still used by the horsemen at 
the public exhibitions ; but the Montera is now 
prevalent. I find it difficult to describe this part 
of the national dress without the aid of a drawing. 
Imagine, however, a bishop's mitre inverted, and 
closed on the side intended to receive the head. 
Conceive the two points of the mitre so shortened 
that, placed downwards on the skull, they scarcely 
cover the ears. Such is our national cap. Like 
Don Quixote's head-piece, the frame is made of 
paste-board. Externally it is black velvet, orna- 
mented with silk frogs and tassels of the same co- 
lour. 

Each of the cavaliers holds a lance, twelve feet 
in length, headed w 7 ith a three-edged steel point. 
The weapon is called Garrocha, and it is used by 



122 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



horsemen whenever they have to contend with the 
bulls, either in the fields or the amphitheatre. The 
steel, however, is sheathed by two strong leather 
rings, which are taken off in proportion to the 
strength of the bull, and the sort of wound which 
is intended. On the present occasion no more than 
half an inch of steel is uncovered. Double that 
length is allowed in the amphitheatre ; though the 
spear is not intended to kill or disable the animal, 
but to keep him off by the painful pressure of the 
steel on a superficial wound. Such however, is the 
violence of the bulls when attacking the horses, that 
I once saw the blunt spear I have described, run 
along the neck into the body of the beast and kill 
him on the spot. But this is a rare occurrence, and 
foul play was suspected on the part of the man, 
who seems to have used more steel than the lance 
is allowed to be armed with. 

The company being assembled in and round the 
rural arena, the one-year-old bulls are singly let in 
by the herdsmen. It might be supposed, that ani- 
mals so young would be frightened at the approach 
of the horseman couching his spear before their 
eyes ; but our Andalusian breeders expect better 
things from their favourites. A young bull must 
attack the horseman twice, bearing the point of the 
spear on his neck, before he is set apart for the 
bloody honours of the amphitheatre. Such as flinch 
from the trial are instantly thrown down by the 
herdsmen, and prepared for the yoke on the spot. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



123 



These scenes are often concluded with a more 
cruel sport, named Derribar. A strong bull is 
driven from the herd into the open field, where he 
is pursued at full gallop by the whole band of horse- 
men. The Spanish bull is a fleet animal, and the 
horses find it difficult to keep up with him at the 
first onset. When he begins, however, to slack in 
his course, the foremost spearsman, couching his 
lance, and aiming obliquely at the lower part of 
the spine, above the haunches, spurs his horse to his 
utmost speed, and, passing the bull, inflicts a wound, 
which, being exceedingly painful, makes him 
wince, lose his balance, and come down with a 
tremendous fall. The shock is so violent that the 
bull seems unable to rise for some time. It is 
hardly necessary to observe, that such feats require 
an uncommon degree of horsemanship, and the 
most complete presence of mind. 

Our town itself abounds in amusements of this 
kind, where the professional bull-fighters learn their 
art, and the amateurs feast their eyes, occasionally 
joining in the sport with the very lowest of the 
people. You must know, by the way, that our 
town corporation enjoys the privilege of being our 
sole and exclusive butchers. They alone have a 
right to kill and sell meat ; which, coming through 
their noble hands, (for this municipal government 
is entailed on the first Andalusian families) is the 
worst and dearest in the whole kingdom. Two 
droves of lean cattle are brought every week to a 



124 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



large slaughter-house (el matadero) which stands 
between one of the city gates and the suburb of San 
Bernardo. To walk in that neighbourhood when 
the cattle approach is dangerous ; for, notwith- 
standing the emaciated condition of the animals, 
and though many are oxen and cows, a crowd is 
sure to collect on the plain, and by the waving of 
their cloaks, and a sharp whistling which they 
make through their fingers, they generally succeed 
in dispersing the drove, in order to single out the 
fiercest for their amusement. Nothing but the 
Spanish cloak is used on these occasions. Holding 
it gracefully at arm's length before the body, so as 
to conceal the person from the breast to the feet, 
they wave it in the eyes of the animal, shaking their 
heads with an air of defiance, and generally calling 
out Ha ! T oro, Toro ! The bull pauses a moment 
before he rushes upon the nearest object. It is said 
that he shuts his eyes at the instant of pushing with 
his horns. The man keeping his cloak in the first 
direction, flings it over the head of the animal, 
while he glances his body to the left, just when the 
bull, led forward by the original impulse, must run 
on a few yards without being able to turn upon 
his adversary, whom, upon wheeling round, he 
finds prepared to delude him as before. This sport 
is exceedingly lively ; and when practised by 
proficients, seldom attended with danger. It is 
called Capto. The whole population of San Ber- 
nardo, men, women and children, are adepts in this 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



125 



art. Within the walls of the slaughter-house, how - 
ever, is the place where the bull-fighters by pro- 
fession are allowed to improve themselves. A 
member of the town corporation presides, and 
admits, gratis, his friends ; among whom, notwith- 
standing the filth natural to such places, ladies do 
not disdain to appear. The Matadero is so well 
known as a school for bull-fighting, that it bears the 
cant appellation of the College. Many of our first 
noblesse have frequented no other school. For- 
tunately, this fashion is wearing away. Yet we 
have often seen Viscount Miranda, the head of one 
of the proudest families of the proud city of Cor- 
dova, step into the public amphitheatre, and kill a 
bull with his own hand. This gentleman had 
reared up one of his favourite animals, and ac- 
customed him to walk into his parlour, to the 
great consternation of the company. The bull, 
however, once, in a surly mood, forgot his acquired 
tameness, and gored one of the servants to death ; 
in consequence of which his master was compelled 
to kill him. 

That Spanish gentlemen fight in public with 
bulls, I suppose you have heard or read. But this 
does not regularly take place, except at the corona- 
tion of our kings, and in their presence. Such 
noblemen as are able to engage in the perilous 
sport, volunteer their services for the sake of the 
reward, which is some valuable place under govern- 
ment, if they prefer it to an order of Knighthood. 



120 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



They appear on horseback., attended by the first 
professional fighters, on foot, and use short spears 
with a broad blade, called Rejones. 

A Bull-day, (Dia de Toros), as it is emphatically 
called at Seville, stops all public and private busi- 
ness. On the preceding afternoon, the amphi- 
theatre is thrown open to all sorts of people indis- 
criminately. Bands of military music enliven the 
bustling scene. The seats are occupied by such as 
wish to see the promenade on the arena, round 
which the ladies parade in their carriages, while 
every man seems to take pleasure in moving on the 
same spot where the fierce combat is to take place 
within a few hours. The spirits of the company 
are, in fact, pitched up by anticipation to the gay, 
noisy, and bold temper of the future sport. 

Our amphitheatre is one of the largest and hand- 
somest in Spain, A great part is built of stone ; 
but, from want of money, the rest is wood. From 
ten to twelve thousand spectators may be accom- 
modated with seats. These rise, uncovered, from 
an elevation of about eight feet above the arena, and 
are finally crowned by a gallery, from whence the 
wealthy behold the fights, free from the inconve- 
niences of the weather. The lowest tier, however, 
is preferred by the young gentlemen, as affording a 
clear view of the wounds inflicted on the bull. This 
tier is protected by a parapet. Another strong 
fence, six feet high, is erected round the arena, 
leaving a space of about twenty, between its area 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



127 



and the lower seats. Openings, admitting a man 
sideways, are made in this fence, to allow the men 
on foot an escape when closely pursued by the 
bull. They, however, most generally leap over 
it, with uncommon agility. But bulls of a cer- 
tain breed, will not be left behind, and literally 
clear the fence. Falling into the vacant space 
before the seats, the animal runs about till one of 
the gates is opened, through which he is easily 
drawn back to the arena. 

Fewjimong the lower classes retire to their beds 
on the eve of a Bull-day. From midnight they 
pour down the streets leading to the amphitheatre, 
in the most riotous and offensive manner, to be 
present at the Encierro — -shutti?ig-in of the bulls — 
which being performed at the break of day, is allow- 
ed to be seen without paying for seats. The devoted 
animals are conducted from their native fields to a 
large plain in the neighbourhood of Seville, from 
whence eighteen, the number exhibited daily during 
the feasts, are led to the amphitheatre, on the ap- 
pointed day, that long confinement may not break 
down their fierceness. This operation has some- 
thing extremely wild in its character. All the s 
amateurs of the town are seen on horseback with 
their lances hastening towards Tablada, the spot 
where the bulls are kept at large. The herds- 
men, on foot, collect the victims of the day into a 
drove ; this they do by means of tame oxen, called 
Cabestros y taught to be led by a haulter, carrying, 



12$ LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

tied round their neck, a large deep-sounding bell, 
with a wooden clapper. What the habit of fol- 
lowing the bells of the leaders fails to do, the crack- 
ing of the herdsmen's slings is sure to perform, when 
the animals are not driven to madness. The horse- 
men, also, stand on all sides of the drove till they 
get into a round trot. Thus they proceed to 
within half a mile of the amphitheatre. At that 
distance a path is closed up on both sides, with 
stout poles, tied horizontally across upright stakes 
— a feeble rampart, indeed, against the fury of a 
herd of wild bulls. Yet the Sevillian mob, though 
fully aware of the danger, are mad enough to take 
pleasure in exposing themselves. The intolerable 
noise in my street, and the invitation of a Member 
of the Maestranza — a corporate association of noble- 
men, whose object is the breeding and breaking of 
horses, and who in this town enjoy the exclusive 
privilege of giving bull-feasts to the public — induced 
me, during the last season, to get up one morning 
with the dawn, and take my stand at the amphi- 
theatre, where, from their private gallery, I com- 
manded a view of the plain lying between the river 
Guadalquivir and that building. 

At the distant sound of the oxen's bells, shoals of 
people were seen driving wildly over the plain, like 
clouds before a strong gale. One could read in 
their motions, a struggle between fear on one side, 
and vanity and habit on the other. Now they ap- 
proached the palisade, now they ran to a more 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



129 



distant spot. Many climbed up the trees, while 
the more daring or fooi-hardy, kept their station on 
what they esteemed a post of honour. As our view 
was terminated by a narrow pass between the river 
and the ancient tower called del Oro, or Golden, 
the cavalcade broke upon us with great effect. It 
approached at full gallop. The leading horsemen, 
now confined within the palisades, and having the 
whole herd at their heels, were obliged to run for 
their lives. Few, however, ventured on this des- 
perate service, and their greatest force was in the 
rear. The herdsmen clinging to the necks of the 
oxen, in order to keep pace with the horses, ap- 
peared, to an unpractised eye, doomed to inevitable 
destruction. The cries of the multitude, the sound 
of numberless horns, made of the hollow stem of a 
large species of thistle, the shrill and penetrating 
whistling, which seems most to harass and enrage 
the bulls, together with the confused and rapid 
motion of the scene, could hardly be endured with- 
out a degree of dizziness. It often happens, that 
the boldest of the mob succeed in decoying a bull 
from the drove ; but I was, this time, fortunate 
enough to see them safely lodged in the Toiil — a 
small court divided into a series of compartments 
with drop-gates, in the form of sluices, into which 
they are successively goaded from a surrounding 
gallery, and lodged singly till the time of letting 
them lose upon the arena. 

The custom of this town requires that a bull be 

K 



130 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



given to the populace immediately after the shutting- 
in. The irregular fight that ensues is perfectly dis- 
gusting and shocking. The only time I have 
witnessed it, the area of the amphitheatre was actu- 
ally crowded with people, both on horse and foot. 
Fortunately their numbers distracted the animal : 
on whatever side he charged, large masses ran 
before him, on which he would have made a dread- 
ful havock, but for the multitude which drew his 
attention to another spot. Yet one of the crowd, 
evidently in a state of intoxication, who stood still 
before the bull, was tossed up to a great height, and 
fell apparently dead. He would have been gored 
to pieces before our eyes, had not the herdsmen 
and some other good fighters, drawn away the beast 
with their cloaks. 

Such horrors are frequent at these irregular 
fights ; yet neither the cruelty of the sport, nor the 
unnecessary danger to which even the most expert 
bull-fighters expose their lives, nor the debauch 
and profligacy attendant on such exhibitions, are 
sufficient to rouse the zeal of our fanatics against 
them. Our popular preachers have succeeded 
twice, within my recollection, in shutting up the 
theatre. I have myself seen a friar with a crucifix 
in his hand, stop at its door, at the head of an 
evening procession ; and, during a considerable 
part of the performance, conjure the people, as 
they valued their souls, not to venture into that 
abode of sin ; but I never heard from these holy 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



101 



guardians of morals the least observation against 
bull-fighting : and even our high-flyers in devotion 
— the Philippians '* whom we might call our Me- 
thodists, allow all, except clergymen, to attend 
these bloody scenes, while they deny absolution to 
any who do not renounce the play. 

Before quitting the amphitheatre I was taken by 
my friend to the gallery from which the bulls were 
goaded into their separate stalls. As it stands only 
two or three feet above their heads, I could not 
but feel a degree of terror at such a close view of 
these fiery savage eyes, those desperate efforts to 
reach the beholders, accompanied by repeated and 
ferocious bellowings. There is an intelligence and 
nobleness in the lion that makes him look much 
less terrific in his den. I saw the Divisa, a bunch 
of ribbons tied to a barbed steel point, stuck into 
the bulls' necks. It is intended to distinguish the 
breeds by different combinations of colours, which 
are stated in handbills, sold about the streets like 
your courf-calendars before the assizes. 

Ten is the appointed hour to begin the morning 
exhibition ; and such days are fixed upon as will 
not, by a long church-service, prevent the attend- 
ance of the canons and prebendaries, who choose 
to be present ; for the chapter, in a body, receive 
a regular invitation from the Maestranza. Such, 
therefore, as have secured seats, may stay at home 



* See Letter III. p. 77. 
K 2 



132 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



till the tolling of the great bell announces the ele- 
vation of the host — a ceremony which takes place 
near the conclusion of the daily morning service. 

The view of the Seville amphitheatre, when full, 
is very striking. Most people attend in the An- 
dalusian dress, part of which I have already des- 
cribed. The colour of the men's cloaks, which are 
of silk, in the fine season, varies from purple to 
scarlet. The short loose jackets of the men display 
the most lively hues, and the white veils which the 
females generally wear at these meetings, tell beau- 
tifully with the rest of their gay attire. 

The clearing of the arena, on which a multitude 
lounges till the last moment, is part of the show, 
and has the appropriate appellation of Despejo. 
This is performed by a battalion of infantry. The 
soldiers entering at one of the gates in a column, 
display their ranks, at the sound of martial music, 
and sweep the people before them as they march 
across the ground. This done, the gates are closed, 
the soldiers perform some evolutions, in which the 
commanding officer is expected to shew his in- 
genuity, till, having placed his men in a con- 
venient position, they disband in a moment, and 
hide themselves behind the fence. 

The band of Toreros (bull-fighters), one half in 
blue, the other in scarlet cloaks, now advance in 
two lines across the arena, to make obeisance to 
the president. Their number is generally twelve 
or fourteen, including the two Matadores, each at- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



133 



tended by an assistant called Mediaespada (demi- 
sword). Close in their rear follow the Picadores 
(pikemen) on horseback, wearing scarlet jackets 
trimmed with silver lace. The shape of the horse- 
men's jackets resembles those in use among the 
English postboys. As a protection to the legs and 
thighs, they have strong leather overalls, stuffed to 
an enormous size with soft brown paper — a sub- 
stance which is said to offer great resistance to the 
bull's horns. After making their bow to the pre- 
sident, the horsemen take their post in a line to 
the left of the gate which is to let in the bulls, 
standing in the direction of the barrier at the dis- 
tance of thirty or forty paces from each other. 
The fighters on foot, without any weapon or means 
of defence, except their cloaks, wait, not far from 
the horses, ready to give assistance to the pikemen. 
Every thing being thus in readiness, a constable, 
in the ancient Spanish costume, rides up to the 
front of the principal gallery, and receives into his 
hat the key of the Tori/ or bull's den, which the 
president flings from the balcony. Scarcely has 
the constable delivered the key under the steward's 
gallery, when, at the waving of the president's 
handkerchief, the bugles sound amid a storm of 
applause, the gates are flung open, and the first 
bull rushes into the amphitheatre. I shall describe 
what, on the day I allude to, our connoisseurs 
deemed an interesting fight, and if you imagine it 
repeated, with more or less danger and carnage, 



134 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



eight times in the morning and ten in the evening? 
you will have a pretty accurate notion of the whole 
performance. 

The bull paused a moment and looked wildly 
upon the scene ; then, taking notice of the first 
horseman, made a desperate charge against him. 
The ferocious animal was received at the point of 
the pike, which, according to the laws of the 
game, was aimed at the fleshy part of the neck. 
A dextrous motion of the bridle-hand and right leg 
made the horse evade the bull's horn, by turning 
to the left. Made fiercer by the wound, he in- 
stantly attacked the next pikeman, whose horse, 
less obedient to the rider, was so deeply gored in 
the chest that he fell dead on the spot. The im- 
pulse of the bull's thrust threw the rider on the 
other side of the horse. An awful silence ensued. 
The spectators, rising from their seats, beheld in 
fearful suspense the wild bull goring the fallen 
horse, while the man, whose only chance of safety 
depended on lying motionless, seemed dead to all 
appearance. This painful scene lasted but a few 
seconds ; for the men on foot, by running towards 
the bull, in various directions, waving their cloaks 
and uttering loud cries, soon made him quit the 
horse to pursue them. When the danger of the 
pikeman was passed, and he rose on his legs to 
vault upon another horse, the burst of applause 
might be heard at the farthest extremity of the 
town. Dauntless, and urged by revenge, he now 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



135 



galloped forth to meet the bull. But, without de- 
tailing the shocking sights that folio wed, I shall 
only mention that the ferocious animal attacked the 
horsemen ten successive times, wounded four horses 
and killed two. One of these noble creatures, 
though wounded in two places, continued to face 
the bull without shrinking, till growing too weak, 
he fell down with the rider. Yet these horses are 
never trained for the fights ; but are bought for the 
amount of thirty or forty shillings, when, worn out 
with labour, or broken by disease, they are unfit 
for any other service. 

A flourish of the bugles discharged the horsemen 
till the beginning of the next combat, and the 
amusement of the people devolved on the Ban- 
derilleros — the same whom we have hitherto seen 
attentive to the safety of the horsemen. The 
Banderilla, literally, little flag, from which they 
take their name, is a shaft of two feet in length, 
pointed with a barbed steel, and gaily ornamented 
with many sheets of painted paper, cut into re- 
ticulated coverings. Without a cloak, and holding 
one of these darts in each hand, the fighter runs 
up to the bull, and stopping short when he sees 
himself attacked, fixes the two shafts, without 
flinging them, behind the horns of the beast at the 
very moment when it stoops to toss him. The 
painful sensation makes the bull throw up his head 
without inflicting the intended blow, and while he 
rages in impotent endeavours to shake oif the 



136 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



hanging darts that gall him, the man has full 
leisure to escape. It is on these occasions, when 
the Banderilleros fail to fix the darts, that they re- 
quire their surprising swiftness of foot. Being 
without the protection of a cloak, they are obliged 
to take instantly to flight. The bull follows them 
at full gallop ; and I have seen the man leap the 
barrier, so closely pursued by the enraged brute, 
that it seemed as if he had sprung up by placing 
the feet on its head. Townsend thought it was 
literally so. Some of the darts are set with squibs 
and crackers. The match, a piece of tinder, made 
of a dried fungus, is so fitted to the barbed pointy 
that, rising by the pressure which makes it pe- 
netrate the skin, it touches the train of the fire- 
works. The only object of this refinement of 
cruelty is, to confuse the bull's instinctive powers, 
and, by making him completely frantic, to diminish 
the danger of the Matador ', who is never so ex- 
posed as when the beast is collected enough to 
meditate the attack. 

At the waving of the president's handkerchief, 
the bugles sounded the death-signal, and the Ma- 
tador came forward. Pepe IIlo, the pride of this 
town, and certainly one of the most graceful and 
dextrous fighters that Spain has ever produced, 
having flung off his cloak, approached the bull 
with a quick, light, and fearless step. In his left 
hand he held a square piece of red cloth, spread 
upon a staff about two feet in length, and in his 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



137 



right, a broad sword not much longer. His at- 
tendants followed him at a distance. Facing the 
bull, within six or eight yards, he presented the 
red flag, keeping his body partially concealed be- 
hind it, and the sword entirely out of view. The 
bull rushed against the red cloth, and our hero 
slipped by his side by a slight circular motion, 
while the beast passed under the lure which the 
Matador held in the first direction, till he had 
evaded the horns. Enraged by this deception, and 
unchecked by any painful sensation, the bull col- 
lected all his strength for a desperate charge. Pepe 
Illo now levelled his sword, at the left side of the 
bull's neck, and, turning upon his right foot as the 
animal approached him, ran the weapon nearly up 
to the hilt into its body. The bull staggered, tot- 
tered, and dropped gently upon his bent legs ; but 
had yet too much life in him for any man to ven- 
ture near with safety. — The unfortunate Illo has 
since perished from a wound inflicted by a bull in 
a similar state. The Matador observed, for one or 
two minutes, the signs of approaching death in the 
fierce animal now crouching before him, and at his 
bidding, an attendant crept behind the bull and 
struck him dead, by driving a small poniard at the 
jointure of the spine and the head. This operation 
is never performed, except when the prostrate bull 
lingers. I once saw Illo, at the desire of the 
spectators, inflict this merciful blow in a manner 
which nothing but ocular demonstration would have 



138 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



made me believe. Taking the poniard, called Pim- 
tiUa-y by the blade, he poised it for a few moments, 
and jerked it with such unerring aim on the bull's 
neck, as he lay on his bent legs, that he killed the 
animal with the quickness of lightning. 

Four mules, ornamented with large morrice-bells 
and ribbons, harnessed a-breast, and drawing a 
beam furnished with an iron hook in the middle, 
galloped to the place where the bull lay. This 
machine being fastened to a rope previously thrown 
round the dead animal's horns, he was swiftly 
dragged out of the amphitheatre. 

I have now given you a more minute, and, I 
trust, more correct description of every thing con- 
nected with the bull-fights than has ever been 
drawn by any traveller. Townsend's is the best 
account of these sports I ever met with ; yet it is 
not free from mistakes. So difficult is it to see dis- 
tinctly, scenes with which we are not familiarly ac- 
quainted. 

The risk of the fighters is great, and their dexte- 
rity alone prevents its being imminent. The lives 
most exposed are those of the Matadores ; and few 
of them have retired in time to avoid a tragical end. 
Bull fighters rise from the dregs of the people. 
Like most of their equals, they unite superstition 
and profligacy in their character. None of them 
will venture upon the arena without a scapulary, 
two small square pieces of cloth suspended by 
ribbons, on the breast and back, between the shirt 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



139 



and the waistcoat. In the front square there is a 
prints on linen, of the Virgin Mary — generally, the 
Carmel Mary, who is the patron goddess of all the 
rogues and vagabonds in Spain. These scapularies 
are blessed, and sold by the Carmelite Friars. Our 
great Matador, Pepe Illo, besides the usual amulet, 
trusted for safety to the patronage of St. Joseph, 
whose chapel adjoins the Seville amphitheatre. 
The doors of this chapel were, during Illo's life, 
thrown open as long as the fight continued, the 
image of the Saint being all that time encircled by 
a great number of lighted wax-candles, which the 
devout gladiator provided at his own expense. The 
Saint, however, unmindful of this homage, allowed 
his client often to be wounded, and finally left him 
to his fate at Madrid. 

To^njc^t^jgp.e.ctacle.1 have described, the feel- 
ings must be .grejajtly...pe.iTerted ;_ yet that degree of 
perversion is very easily accomplished. The display 
of courage and address which is made at these exhi- 
bitions, and the contagious nature of all emotions in 
numerous assemblies, are more than sufficient to 
bhint, in a short time, the natural disgust arising 
from Jjije. jBrsJt, view of blood and slaughter. If we 
consider that even the Vestals at Rome were pas- 
sionately fond of gladiatorial shows, we shall not be 
surprised at the Spanish taste for sports which, with 
infinite less waste of human life, can give rise to the 
s ti ongest emotions. 

The following instance, with which I shall con- 



140 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



elude, will shew you to what degree the passion for 
bull-fights can grow. A gentleman of my ac- 
quaintance had some years ago the misfortune to 
lose his sight. It might be supposed, that a blind 
man would avoid the scene of his former enjoyment 
— a scene where every thing is addressed to the eye. 
This gentleman, however, is a constant attendant at 
the amphitheatre. Morning and evening he takes 
his place with the Maestranza, of which he is a 
member, having his guide by his side. Upon the 
appearance of every bull, he greedily listens to the 
description of the animal, and of all that takes place 
in the fight. His mental conception of the exhibi- 
tion, aided by the well known cries of the multi- 
tude, is so vivid, that when a burst of applause 
allows his attendant just to hint at the event that 
drew it from the spectators, the unfortunate man's 
face gleams with pleasure, and he echoes the last 
clappings of the circus. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



141 



LETTER V. 



Seville, 1801. 

The calamity which has afflicted this town and 
swept away eighteen thousand of its inhabitants,^ 
will more than sufficiently account for my long 
silence. But, during the interruption of my cor- 
respondence, there is a former period for which I 
owe you a more detailed explanation. 

My travels in Spain have hitherto been as limited 
as is used among my countrymen. The expense, 
the danger, and the great inconvenience attending 
a journey, prevent our travelling for pleasure or 
curiosity. Most of our people spend their whole 
lives within their province, and few among the 
females have ever lost sight of the town that gave 
them birth. I have, however, brought home some 
of your English restlessness ; and, as my dear friend, 
the young clergyman, whose account of himself 



* The yellow fever in 1800. 



142 



LETTERS FROM STAIN, 



is already in your hands, had to visit a very pecu- 
liar spot of Andalusia, I joined him most willingly 
in his excursion, during which I collected a few 
traits of our national manners, with a view to add 
one more to my preceding sketches. 

My friend's destination was a town in the moun- 
tains or Sierra de Ronda, called Olbera, or Olvera, 
for we make no difference in the pronunciation of 
the h and the v. A young man of that town had 
been elected to a fellowship of this Colegio Mayor ; 
and my friend, who is a member of that body, was 
the appointed commissioner for collecting the 
pruebas, or evidence, which, according to the sta- 
tutes, must be taken at the birth-place of the can- 
didate, concerning the purity of his blood and 
family connexions. The badness of the roads, in 
that direction, induced us to make the whole jour- 
ney on horseback. We were provided with the 
coarse dress which country gentlemen wear on 
similar occasions — a short loose jacket and small- 
clothes of brown serge ; thick leather gaiters ; a 
cloak tied up in a roil on the pommel of the saddle ; 
and a stout spencer, ornamented with a kind of 
patchwork lace, made of pieces of various colours, 
which is a favourite riding-dress of our Andalusian 
beaux. Each of us, as well as the servant, whose 
horse carried our light luggage, was armed with a 
musket, hanging by a hook, on a ring, which all 
travelling-saddles are furnished with for that pur- 
pose. This manner of travelling is, upon the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



143 



whole, the most pleasant in Andalusia. Robbers 
seldom attack people on horseback, provided they 
take care, as we did, never to pass any wooded 
ground without separating to the distance of a mus- 
ket -shot from each other. 

My fellow-traveller took this opportunity to pay 
a visit to some of his acquaintance at Osuna, a town 
of considerable wealth, with a numerous noblesse, 
a collegiate church, and a university. At the end 
of our first days' journey we stopped at a pretty 
populous village called El Arahal. The inn, though 
far from comfortable, .in the English sense of the 
word, was not one of the worst we were doomed to 
endure in our tour, ; for travellers were not here 
obliged to starve if they had not brought their own 
provisions ; and we had a room with a few broken 
chairs, a deal table and two flock beds, laid upon 
planks raised from the brick-floor by iron tressels. 
A dish of ham and eggs afforded us an agreeable 
and substantial dinner, and. a bottle of cheap, but 
by no means unpleasant wine, made us forget the 
jog-trot of our day's journey. 

We had just felt the approach of that peculiar 
kind of ennui which lurks in every corner of an inn, 
when the sound of a fife and drum, with more of 
the sporting and mirthful than of the military cha- 
racter, awakened our curiosity. * But to ask a ques- 
tion, even at the best Spanish fonda (hotel), you 
must either exert your lungs, calling the waiter, 



144 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



chambermaid, and landlord, in succession, to mul- 
tiply the chances of rinding one disposed to hear 
you ; or adopt the more quiet method of searching 
them through the house, beginning at the kitchen. 
Here, however, we had only to step out of our 
room and we found ourselves within the cook's do- 
minions. The best country inns, indeed, consist 
of a large hall contiguous to the street or road, and 
paved like the former with round stones. At one 
end of this hall there is a large hearth, raised about 
a foot from the ground. A wood-fire is constantly 
burning upon it, and travellers of all ranks and 
degrees, who do not prefer moping in their cold, 
unglazed rooms, are glad to take a seat near it, 
where they enjoy, gratis, the wit and humour of 
carriers, coachmen, and clowns, and a close view 
of the hostess or her maid, dressing successively in 
the same frying pan, now an omelet of eggs and 
onions, now a dish of dried fish with oil and love- 
apples, or it may be the limbs of a tough fowl 
which but a few moments before had been strutting 
about the house. The doors of the bed-rooms, as 
well as that of the stable-yard, all open into the 
hall. Leaving a sufficient space for carriages and 
horses to cross from the front door to the stables, 
the Spanish carriers, or harrieros, who travel in 
parties of twenty or thirty men and double that 
number of mules, range themselves at night along 
the walls, each upon his large packsaddle, with no 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



145 



other covering but a kind of horse-cloth, called 
mania, which they use on the road to keep them 
dry and warm in winter. 

Into this truly common-hall were we brought by 
the sound of the drum, and soon learned from one 
of the loungers who sauntered about it, that a 
company of strolling-players were in a short time 
to begin their performance. This was good news 
indeed for us, who, unwilling to go early to bed 
with a certainty of not being allowed to sleep, 
dreaded the close of approaching night. The per- 
formance, we were told, was to take place in an 
open court, where a cow-house, open in front, 
afforded a convenient situation both for the stage 
and the dressing-room of the actors. Having each 
of us paid the amount of a penny and a fraction, 
we took our seats under a bright starry sky, muffled 
up in our cloaks, and perfectly unmindful of the 
danger which might arise from the extreme airiness 
of the theatre. A horrible screaming fiddle, a 
grumbling violoncello, and a deafening French- 
horn, composed the band. The drop-curtain con- 
sisted of four counterpanes sewed together; and 
the scenes, which were red gambroon curtains, 
hanging loose from a frame, and flapping in the 
wind, let us into the secrets of the dressing-room, 
where the actors, unable to afford a different person 
for every character, multiplied themselves by the 
assistance of the tailor. 

The play was El Diablo Predicador — " The Devil 

L 



146 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



turned Preacher ' — one of the numerous dramatic 
compositions published anonymously during the 
latter part of the Austrian dynasty. The character 
of this comedy is so singular, and so much of the 
public mind may be learned from its popularity all 
over the country, that I will give you an abstract 
of the plot. 

The hero of the play, designated in the Dramatis 
Persona? by the title of primer galan (first gallant), 
is Lucifer, who, dressed in a suit of black velvet 
and scarlet stockings — the appropriate stage-dress 
of devils, of whatever rank and station — appears 
in the first scene mounted upon a griffin, summon- 
ing his confidant Asmodeus out of a trap, to ac- 
quaint him with the danger to which the newly- 
established order of Saint Francis exposed the 
whole kingdom of darkness. Italy (according to 
the arch-demon) was overrun with mendicant 
friars ; and even Lucca, the scene of the play, 
where they had met with a sturdy opposition, 
might, he feared, consent to the building of a 
Franciscan convent, the foundations of which were 
already laid. Lucifer, therefore, determines to as- 
sist the Lucchese in dislodging the cowled enemies 
from that town ; and he sends Asmodeus to Spain 
upon a similar service. The chief engine he puts 
in motion is Ludovico, a wealthy and hard-hearted 
man, who had just married Octavia, a paragon of 
virtue and beauty, thus cruelly sacrificed by her 
father's ambition. Feliciana, a cousin of Octavia, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



147 



and the object of her early affection, availing him- 
self of the husband's ignorance of their now-broken 
engagement, makes his appearance at Lucca with 
the determination of seducing the bride and taking 
revenge on Ludovico. The Guardian of the new 
convent of Saint Francis, being obliged by the rule 
of his order to support the friars by daily alms 
collected from the people, and finding the inha- 
bitants of Lucca determined to starve them out of 
their city, applies to Ludovico for help. That 
wicked man thrusts the Guardian and his lay-bro- 
ther Antolin — the gracioso of the play — out of the 
house, to be hooted and pelted by the mob. No- 
thing, therefore, is left for the friars but to quit the 
town : and now, the poet considering Horace's rule 
for supernatural interference as perfectly applicable 
to such a desperate state of things, the Nino Dios 
(the Child God), # and Michael the archajigeZ, come 
down in a cloud (you will readily conceive that the 
actors at our humble theatre dispensed with the 
machinery), and the last, addressing himself to 
Lucifer, gives him a peremptory order to assume 
the habit of Saint Francis, and under that disguise 
to stop all the mischief he had devised against Oc- 
tavia ; to obtain support from the people of Lucca 
for the Franciscans ; and not to depart till he had 
built two convents instead of the one he was trying 
to nip in the bud. 



* See Note F. 

L 2 



148 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



To give, as you say in England, the Devil his 
due, it must be confessed, that Lucifer, though 
now and then exclaiming against the severity of his 
punishment, executes his commission with exem- 
plary zeal. He presents himself to the Guardian, 
in the garb of the order, and having Brother An- 
tolin appointed as his attendant, soon changes the 
hearts of the people, and obtains abundant supplies 
for the convent. The under-plot proceeds in the 
mean time, involving Octavia in the most imminent 
dangers. She snatches from Feliciano a letter, in 
which she had formerly avowed her love to him, 
which, imperfectly torn to pieces, falls into Lu- 
dovico's hands, and induces him to plan her death. 
To accomplish this purpose, he takes her into the 
country, and stabs her in the depth of a forest, a 
few minutes before Monk Lucifer, who fairly and 
honestly had intended to prevent the blow, could 
arrive at the place with his lay-companion. 

To be thus taken by surprise puzzles the ex- 
archangel not a little. Still he observes, that since 
Octavia's soul had neither gone to heaven, pur- 
gatory, nor hell, a miracle was on the point of 
being performed. Nor was he deceived in this 
shrewd conjecture ; for the Virgin Mary descends 
in a cloud, and touching the body of Octavia, 
restores her to life. Feliciano arriving at this mo- 
ment, attributes the miracle to the two friars ; and 
the report of this wonder exposes Antolin to a lu- 
dicrous mobbing in the town, where his frock is 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



149 



torn to pieces to keep the shreds as relics. Lucifer 
now endeavours to prove to the resuscitated wife, 
that, according to the canon law, her marriage has 
been dissolved by death ; but she, distrusting the 
casuistry of that learned personage, immediately 
returns to her husband. Her unwilling protector 
is therefore compelled to prevent a second death, 
which the desperate Ludovico intends to inflict 
upon his too faithful wife. After this second rescue 
of the beautiful Octavia, Lucifer makes a most 
edifying address, urging Ludovico to redeem his 
sins, by giving alms to the Franciscans. His elo- 
quence, however, making no impression upon the 
miser, Saint Michael gives the word from behind 
the scenes, and the obdurate man is swallowed up 
by the earth. Michael now makes his appearance ; 
and, upon a very sensible remonstance of Lucifer, 
as to the hardship of his present case, he allows 
the latter to strip off the cowl, and carry on hos- 
tilities against the Franciscans by the usual arts 
he employs against the other religious orders, -i.e. 
assaulting the monks' virtue by any means except 
their stomachs. Food the Franciscans must never 
want, according to the heavenly promise made to 
their founder. 

This curious play is performed, at least once a 
year, on every Spanish theatre ; when the Fran- 
ciscan friars, instead of enforcing the standing rule, 
which forbids the exhibition of the monkish dress 
upon the stage, regularly lend the requisite suits to 



150 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the actors : so favourable is the impression it leaves 
in favour of that mendicant order. 

Our truly Thespian entertainment was just con- 
cluded^ when we heard the church-bell toll what 
in Spain is called Las Animas — the Souls. A man. 
bearing a large lantern with a painted glass, re- 
presenting two naked persons enveloped in flameSj 
entered the court, addressing every one of the 
company in these words : — The Holy Souls ^ Bro- 
ther ! Remember the Holy Souls. Few refused the 
petitioner a copper coin, worth about the eighth 
part of a penny. This custom is universal in Spain. 
A man, whose chief employment is to be agent for 
the souls in purgatory, in the evening — the only 
time when the invisible sufferers are begged for 
about the towns — and for some saint or Madonna, 
during the day, parades the streets after sunset, 
with the lantern I have described, and never fails 
to visit the inns, where the travellers, who ge- 
nerally entrust their safety from robbers to the 
holy souls, are always ready to make some pe- 
cuniary acknowldegement for past favours, or to 
engage their protection in future dangers. The 
tenderness of all sorts of believing Spaniards for the 
souls in purgatory, and the reliance they place on 
their intercession with God, would almost be af- 
fecting, did it not originate in the most superstitious 
credulity. 

The doctrine of purgatory is very easily, nay, 
consistently embraced by such as believe in the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 151 

expiatory nature of pain and suffering. The best 
feelings of our hearts are, besides, most ready to 
assist the imagination in devising means to keep up 
an intercourse with that invisible world, which 
either possesses already, or must soon possess, 
whatever has engaged our affections in this. Grief 
for a departed friend loses half its bitterness with a 
Catholic who can firmly believe that not a day shall 
pass without repeated and effectual proofs of at- 
tachment, on his part, till he join the conscious ob- 
ject of his love in bliss. While other articles of 
the Catholic faith are too refined and abstract for 
children, their tender and benevolent minds eagerly 
seize on the idea of purgatory fire. A parent or a 
brother, still kind to them in another world, yet 
suffering excruciating pains that may be relieved, 
shortened, and perhaps put an end to by some 
privation or prayer, are notions perfectly adapted 
to their capacity and feelings. Every year brings 
round the day devoted by the church to the relief 
of the departed souls. The holy vestments used 
at the three masses, which, by a special grant, 
every priest is allowed to perform that morning, 
are black. Large candles of yellow wax are placed 
over the graves within the churches ; and even the 
church-yards, those humble places of repose ap- 
pointed among us for criminals and paupers, are 
not neglected on that day of revived sorrows. 
Light are provided for them at the expense of the 
society established in every town of Spain for the 



152 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



relief of the friendless spirits, who, for want of 
assistance, may be lingering in the purifying flames; 
and many of the members, with a priest at their 
head, visit these cemeteries for nine successive 
evenings. 

Thus, even benevolence, under the guidance of 
superstition, degenerates into absurdity. It does 
not, however, stop here ; but, rushing headlong 
into the ludicrous, forces a smile upon the face of 
sympathy, and painfully compels our mirth where 
our tears were ready to flow. The religious in- 
genuity of the Catholics has gone so far as to pub- 
lish the scheme of a lottery for the benefit of such 
souls as might otherwise escape their notice. It 
consists of a large sheet of paper fixed in a frame, 
with an open box beneath it. Under different 
heads, numbered from one to ninety, the inventor 
of this pious game has distributed the most in- 
teresting cases which can occur in the debtors side 
of the infernal Newgate, allotting to each a prayer, 
penance or offering. In the box are deposited 
ninety pieces of card, distinguished by numbers 
corresponding to the ninety classes. According as 
the pious gambler draws the tickets, he performs 
the meritorious works enjoined in the scheme — 
generally a short prayer or slight penance — trans- 
ferring their spiritual value to the fortunate souls 
to whom each card belongs. Often in my child- 
hood, have I amused myself at this good-natured 
game. But the Inquisition is growing fastidious ; 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 153 

and though the lottery of purgatory is as fairly 
grounded on the doctrines of Rome, as the papal 
bulls for the release of suffering souls, which are 
sold for sixpence, with a blank for inserting the 
name of the person in whose behalf it is purchased ; 
the inquisitors, it seems, will not allow the libera- 
tion of the departed to become . a matter of chance, 
and the lottery scheme has lately been prohibited. 
Fortunately, we still have various means of assist- 
ing our friends in Hades; for, besides masses, 
Bulls, prayers, and penances, the Pope has esta- 
blished eight or ten days in the year, on which 
every Spaniard (for the grant is confined to Spain) 
by kneeling at five different altars, and there pray- 
ing for the extirpation of heresy, is entitled to send 
a species of habeas animam writ to any of his friends 
in purgatory. The name of the person whose 
liberation is intended should, for fear of mistakes, 
be mentioned in the prayers. But, lest the order 
of release should find him already free, or perhaps 
within those gates to which no Pope has ever ven- 
tured to apply his keys, we are taught to endorse 
the spiritual bill with other names, addressing it 
finally to the most worthy and disconsolate. 

These privileged days are announced to the 
public by a printed notice, placed over the bason 
of holy water, which stands near every church- 
door ; and, as no one enters without wetting his 
forehead with the blessed fluid, there is no fear 
that the happy season should pass unheeded by 



154 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the pious. The words written on the tablet are 
plain and peremptory : Hoy se saca Anhna ; lite- 
rally, " This is a soul-drawing day." We must, 
however, proceed on our uninterrupted journey. 

Osuna, where we arrived on the second day after 
leaving Seville, is built on the declivity of one of 
the detached hills which stand as out-posts to the 
Sierra de Ronda, having in front a large ill-culti- 
vated plain, from whence the principal church, 
and the college, to which the university of that 
town is attached, are seen to great advantage. The 
great square of the town is nearly surrounded by 
an arcade or piazza, with balconies above it, and is 
is altogether not unlike a large theatre. Such 
squares are to be found in every large town of 
Spain, and seem to have been intended for the exhi- 
bition of tournaments and a kind of bull-fights, less 
fierce and bloody than those of the amphitheatre, 
which bear the name of regocijos (rejoicings.) 

The line of distinction between the noblesse and 
the unprivileged class being here drawn with the 
greatest precision, there cannot be a more disagree- 
able place for such as are, by education, above the 
lower ranks, yet have the misfortune of a plebeian 
birth. An honest respectable labourer without 
ambition, yet with a conscious dignity of mind not 
uncommon among the Spanish peasantry, may, in 
this respect, well be an object of envy to many of 
his betters. Gentlemen treat them with a less 
haughty and distant air than is used in England to- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



155 



wards inferiors and dependents. A rabaddn (chief 
shepherd), or an aperador (steward), is always in- 
dulged with a seat when speaking on business with 
his master, and men of the first distinction will 
have a kind word for every peasant, when riding 
about the country. Yet they will exclude from 
their club and billiard table a well-educated man, 
because, forsooth, he has no legal title to a Don 
before his name. 

This town, though one of the third order, sup- 
ports three convents of friars and two of nuns. 
A gentleman of this place who, being a clergyman, 
enjoys a high reputation as a spiritual director, 
introduced us to some of the ladies at the nun- 
neries. By this means I became acquainted with 
two very remarkable characters — a worker of mira- 
cles, and a nun in despair (monja desesperada) . The 
first was an elderly woman, whose countenance 
and manners betrayed no symptoms of mental 
weakness , and whom, from all I was able to learn, 
it would be difficult to class either with the de- 
ceiving or deceived. The firm persuasion of her 
companions that she is sometimes the object, some- 
times the instrument of supernatural operations? 
inspires them with a respect bordering upon awe. 
It would be tedious to relate the alleged instances 
of her prying into futurity, and searching the re- 
cesses of the heart. Reports like these are indeed 
easily raised and propagated : but I shall briefly 
relate one, which shows how stories of this kind 



156 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



may get abroad through the most respectable 
channels, and form a chain of evidence which in- 
genuity cannot trace up to involuntary error, and 
candour would not attribute to deliberate false- 
hood. 

The community of the JDescahas (unshod nuns) 
had more than once been thrown into great conster- 
nation on seeing their prioress — for to that office 
had her sanctity raised the subject of my story — 
reduced, for many days together, to absolute absti- 
nence from food and drink. Though prostrate, and 
with hardly any power of motion, she was in full 
possession of her speech and faculties. Dr. Carnero, 
a physician well known in these parts for skill and 
personal respectability, attended the patient, for 
though it was firmly believed by the nuns that 
human art could not reach the disease, it is but 
justice to say, that no attempts were visible to give 
it a supernatural character among strangers. The 
doctor, who seems to have at first considered 
the case as a nervous affection, wished to try the 
effect of a decided effort of the patient under 
the influence of his presence and authority ; for 
among nuns the physician is next in influence to 
the professor. Having therefore sent for a glass of 
water, and desiring the attendants to bolster up the 
prioress into a sitting posture, he put it into her 
hand, with a peremptory injunction to do her 
utmost to drink. The unresisting nun put the 
water to her lips, and stopped. The physician 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



157 



was urging her to proceed, when to his great amaze- 
ment he found the contents of the glass reduced to 
one lump of ice. — We had the account of this 
wonder from the clergyman who introduced us to 
the nun. Of his veracity I can entertain no doubt : 
while he, on the other hand, was equally confident 
of Dr. Carnero's. 

Our visit to the other convent made me ac- 
quainted with one of the most pitiable objects ever 
produced by superstition — a reluctant nun. Of 
the actual existence of such miserable beings one 
seldom hears in Spain. A sense of decorum, and 
the utter hopelessness of relief, keep the bitter re- 
grets of many an imprisoned female a profound 
secret to all but their confessor. In the present 
case, however, the vehemence of the sufferer's feel- 
ings had laid open to the world the state of her 
harassed mind. She was a good-looking woman, 
of little more than thirty : but the contrast be- 
tween the monastic weeds, and an indescribable 
air of wantonness which, in spite of all caution, 
marked her every glance and motion, raised a 
mixed feeling of disgust and pity, that made us un- 
comfortable during the whole visit. We had, never- 
theless, to stay till the customary refreshments of 
preserves, cakes, and chocolate were served from 
within the double grate that divided us from the 
inhabitants of the convent. This is done by 
means of a semicircular wooden frame which fills 
up an opening in the wall : the frame turns upon 
its centre, presenting alternately its concave and its 



15S 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



convex side. The refreshments being placed with- 
in the hollow part; a slight impulse of the hand places 
them within reach of the visitors. This machine 
takes the name of torno, from its rotatory motion. 
But I must leave the convents for a future letter. 

After a few days not unpleasantly spent at Osuna, 
we proceeded to Olbera. The roads through all 
the branches of the Sierra de Ronda, though often 
wild and romantic, are generally execrable. A mis- 
take of our servant had carried us within two miles 
of a vilhage called Pruna, when we were overtaken 
by a tremendous storm of hail and thunder. Rain 
succeeded in torrents, and forced us to give up all 
idea of reaching our destination that evening. We, 
consequently, made for the village, anxious to dry 
our clothes, which were perfectly wet through ; 
but so wretched was the inn, that it had not a room 
where we could retire to undress. In this awkward 
situation, my friend as a clergyman, thought of ap- 
plying to the vicar, who, upon learning his name, 
very civilly received us in his house. The dress of 
this worthy priest, a handsome man of about forty, 
shewed that he was at least as fond of his gun and 
pointer, as of his missal. He had a little of the 
swaggering manner of Andalusia, but it was softened 
by a frankness and a gentleman-like air, which we 
little expected in a retired Spanish vicar. The fact 
is, that the livings being poor, none but the sons of 
tradesmen or peasants have, till very lately, entered 
the church, without well-grounded hopes of obtain- 
ing at once a place among the dignified clergy. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 159 

But I should rather say that the real vicars are 
exempted from the care of a parish, and, under the 
the name of beneficiados, receive the tithes, and 
spend them how and where they please. The no- 
mination of curates belongs to the bishops ; some of 
whom, much to the credit of the Spanish prelacy, 
have of late contrived to raise their income, and 
thereby induced a few young men, who, not long 
a^o would have disdained the office, to take a 
parish under their care. The superiority, however, 
which was visible in our host, arose from his being 
what is known by the name of cur a y bejieficiado, or 
having a church, of which, as is sometimes the case, 
the incumbency is inseparable from the curacy. He 
was far above his neighbours in wealth and conse- 
quence ; and being fond of field sports and freedom, 
he preferred the wild spot where he had been born, 
to a more splendid station in a Spanish cathedral. 

The principal, or rather the most frequented, 
room in the vicars house was, as usual, the kitchen 
or great hall at the entrance. A well-looking 
woman, about five and thirty, with a very pretty 
daughter of fifteen, and a peasant-girl to do the 
drudgery of the house, formed the canonical 
establishment of this happy son of St. Peter. 
To scrutinize the relation in which these ladies 
stood to the priest, the laws of hospitality would 
forbid ; while to consider them as mere servants, 
we shrewdly guessed, would have hurt the feelings 
of the vicar. Having therefore, with becoming 



160 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



gallantry, wound ourselves into their good graces, 
we found no difficulty, when supper was served 
up, in making them take their occustomed places, 
which, under some pretence, they now seemed 
prepared to decline. 

Our hearty meal ended, the alcaide, the escribano 
(attorney), and three or four of the more substantial 
farmers, dropped in to their nightly tertulia. As 
the vicar saw no professional squeamishness in my 
reverend companion, he had no hesitation to ac- 
quaint us with the established custom of the house, 
which was to play at faro till bed-time ; and we 
joined the party. A green glazed earthen jar, 
holding a quart of brandy, flavoured with anise, 
was placed at the foot of the vicar, and a glass be- 
fore each of the company. The inhabitants of the 
Sierra de Ronda are fond of spirits, and many ex- 
ceptions to the general abstemiousness of the 
Spaniards are found among them. But we did not 
observe any excess in our party. Probably the in- 
fluence of the clergyman, and the presence of stran- 
gers kept all within the strictest rules of decorum. 
Next morning, after taking a cup of chocolate, and 
cordially thanking our kind host, we took horse 
for Olbera. 

Some miles from that village, we passed one of 
the extensive woods of ilex, which are found in 
many parts of Spain. In summer, the beauty of 
these forests is very great. Wild flowers of all 
kinds, myrtles, honeysuckles, cystus, &c. grow in 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



161 



the greatest profusion, and ornament a scene doubly 
delicious from the cool shade which succeeds to the 
glare of open and desolate plains, under a burning 
sun. Did not the monumental crosses, erected on 
every spot where a traveller has fallen by the hands 
of robbers, bring gloomy ideas to the mind, and 
keep the eye watching every turn, and scouring 
every thicket, without allowing it to repose on the 
beauties that court it on all sides; Spain would af- 
ford many a pleasant and romantic tour. Wild boars, 
and deer, and a few wolves, are found in these forests. 
Birds of all kinds, hawks, kites, vultures, storks, 
cranes, and bustards^ are exceedingly numerous in 
most parts of the country. Game, especially rabbits, 
is so abundant in these mountains, that many people 
live by shooting; and though the number of dogs and 
ferrets probably exceeds that of houses in every 
village, I heard many complaints of annual depre- 
dations on the crops. 

We had traversed some miles of dreary rocky 
ground, without a tree, and hardly any verdure to 
soften its aspect, when from a deep valley, formed 
by two barren mountains, we discovered Olbera, on 
the top of a third, higher than the rest, and more 
rugged and steep than any we had hitherto passed 
Both the approach and view of the town were so 
perfectly in character with what we knew of the in- 
habitants, that the idea of spending a week on that 
spot became gloomy and uncomfortable at that 
moment. 

M 



162 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



The rustic and almost savage manners of the 
noblesse of Olbera are unparalleled in Andalusia. 
Both gentlemen and peasants claim a wild indepen- 
dence,, a liberty of misrule for their town, the exist- 
ence of which betrays the real weakness which 
never fails to attend despotism. An Andalusian 
proverb desires you to u Kill your man and fly to 
Olbera" — Mata al hombre y vete a Olbera. A re- 
markable instance of the impunity with which 
murder is committed in that town occurred two 
years before our visit. The alguacil mayor, a law- 
officer of the first rank, was shot dead by an un- 
known hand, when retiring to his house from an 
evening tertidia. He had offended the chief of a 
party — for they have here their Capulets and 
Montagues, though I could never discover a Juliet 
— who was known to have formerly dispatched an- 
other man in a similar way; and no doubt existed in 
the town, that Lobillo had either killed the alguacil, 
or paid the assassin. The expectation, however, of 
his acquittal was as general as the belief of his guilt. 
To the usual dilatoriness of the judicial forms of the 
country, to the corruption of the scriveners or nota- 
ries who, in taking down, most artfully alter the 
written evidence upon which the judges ground 
their decision, was added the terror of Lobillo's 
name and party, whose vengeance was dreaded by 
the witnesses. We now found him at the hight of 
his power ; and he was one of the persons examined 
in evidence of the noble birth and family honours of 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 163 

the candidate in whose behalf my friend had received 
the commission of his college. Lobillo is a man 
between fifty and sixty, with a countenance on 
which every evil passion is marked in indelible 
characters. He was, in earlier life, renowned for 
his forwardness in the savage rioting which to this 
day forms the chief amusement of the youth of this 
town. The fact is, that the constant use of spirits 
keeps many of them in a state of habitual intoxica- 
tion. One cannot cross the threshold of a house at 
Olbera without being presented with a glass of 
brandy, which it would be an affront to refuse. 
The exploits performed at their drinking-bouts 
constitute the traditional chronicle of the town, 
and are recounted with great glee by young and 
old. The idea of mirth is associated by the fashion- 
ables of Olbera with a rudeness that often dege- 
nerates into downright barbarity. The sports of 
the field are generally terminated by a supper at 
one of the cortijos, or farm-houses of the gentry, 
where the gracioso or wit of the company, is ex- 
pected to promote some practical joke when mis- 
chief is rife among the guests. The word culebra, 
for instance, is the signal for putting out the lights, 
and laying about with the first thing that comes to 
hand, as if trying to kill the snake, which is the 
pretended cause of the alarm. The stomachs of 
the party are, on other occasions, tried with a raw 
hare or kid, of which no one dares refuse to eat his 
share : and it is by no means uncommon to pro- 

m 2 



164 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



pose the alternative of losing a tooth, or paying 
a fine. 

The relations of the young man whose pedigree 
was to be examined by my friend, made it a point 
to entertain us, by rotation, every night with a 
dance. At these parties there was no music but a 
guitar, and some male and female voices. Two or 
four couples stood up for seguidillas, a national 
dance, not unlike the fanda?igo } which was, not 
long since, modified into the bolero, by a dancing- 
master of that name, a native of the province of 
Murcia, from which it was originally called Se- 
giddiUas Murcianas. The dancers, rattling their 
castanets, move at the sound of a single voice, 
which sings couplets of four verses, with a burthen 
of three, accompanied by musical chords that, 
combining the six strings of the guitar into har- 
mony, are incessantly struck with the nails of the 
right hand. The singers relieve each other, every 
one using different words to the same tune. The 
subject of these popular compositions, of which a 
copious, though not very elegant collection is pre- 
served in the memory of the lower classes, is love ; 
and they are generally appropriate to the sex of the 
singers. 

The illumination of the room consisted of a 
candil — a rude lamp of cast-iron, hung up by a 
hook on an upright piece of wood fixed on a three- 
footed stool, the whole of plain deal. Some of the 
ladies wore their mantillas crossed upon the chin so 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



165 



as to conceal their features. A woman in this garb 
is called tapada ; and the practice of that disguise, 
which was very common under the Austrian dy- 
nasty, is still preserved by a few females in some of 
our country-towns. I have seen them at Osuna 
and El Arahal, covered from head to foot with a 
black woollen veil falling on both sides of the face, 
and crossed so closely before it that nothing could 
be perceived but the gleaming of the right eye 
placed just behind the aperture. Our old dramatic 
writers found in the tapadas an inexhaustible re- 
source for their plots. As the laws of honour pro- 
tected a veiled lady from the intrusions of curiosity, 
jealousy was thus perpetually mocked by the very 
objects that were the main source of its alarms. 

My introduction, at the first evening -party, to 
one of the ladies of Olbera, will give you an idea 
of the etiquette of that town. A young gentleman, 
the acknowledged gracioso of the upper ranks, a 
character which in those parts must unite that of 
first bully to support it ; had from the day of our 
arrival taken us under his patronage, and engaged 
to do for us the honours of the place. His only 
faults were, drinking like a fish, and being as 
quarrelsome as a bull-dog ; au reste, he was a kind- 
hearted soul, and would serve a friend the whole 
length of the broad-sword, which, according to the 
good old fashion, he constantly carried under the 
left arm, concealed by the large foldings of his 
cloak. At the dances, he was master of the ce- 



166 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



remonies, and, as such, he introduced us to the 
company. We had not yet seated ourselves, when 
Don Juan de la Rosa — such was our patron's name 
— surprised me with the question, which of the 
present ladies I preferred to sit by. Thinking it 
was a jest, I made a suitable answer ; but I soon 
found he was serious. As it was not for me to in- 
novate, or break through the laudable customs of 
Olbera, no other cause remained for hesitation but 
the difficulty of the choice. Difficult it was in- 
deed ; not, however from the balanced influence of 
contending beauty, but the formidable host of 
either coy or grinning faces, which nearly filled 
one side of the room. To take my post by one of 
the rustic nymphs, and thus engage to keep up a 
regular flirtation for the evening, was more, I con- 
fess, than my courage allowed me. Reversing, 
therefore, the maxim which attributes increased 
horrors to things unknown, I begged to be intro- 
duced to a tapada who sat in a corner, provided a 
young man of the town, who was at that moment 
speaking with her, had not a paramount claim to 
the place. The word was scarcely spoken, when 
my friend, Don Juan, advanced with a bold step, 
and, addressing his townsman with the liberty of 
an established gracioso, declared it was not fit for 
a clown to take that place, instead of the stranger. 
The young man, who happened to be a near rela- 
tion of the lady, gave up his chair very good- 
humouredly, and I was glad to find that the airi- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



16/ 



ness and superior elegance of shape, which led me 
to the choice, had directed me to a gentlewoman. 
My veiled talking partner was highly amused — I 
will not say flattered — with what she chose to call 
my blunder, and, pretending to be old and ugly, 
brought into full play all my Spanish gallantry. 
The evening was passed less heavily than I dread- 
ed ; and during our stay at Olbera we gave a de- 
cided preference to the lady of whom I had, thus 
strangely, declared myself the cortejo pro tempore. 
She was a native of Malaga, whom her husband, 
an officer on half-pay, had induced to reside in his 
native town, which she most cordially detested. 
Perhaps you wish to know the reason of her dis- 
guise at the dance. Moved by a similar curiosity, 
I ventured to make the inquiry, when I learned 
that, for want of time to dress, she had availed 
herself of the custom of the country, which makes 
the mantilla a species of dishabille fit for an evening 
party. 

In the intervals of the dance we were sometimes 
treated with dramatic scenes, of which the dia- 
logue is composed on the spot by the actors. This 
amusement is not uncommon in country-towns. It 
is known by the name of juegos — a word literally 
answering to plays. The actors are in the habit of 
performing together, and consequently do not find 
it difficult to go through their parts without much 
hesitation. Men in women's clothes act the female 
characters. The truth is, that far from being sur- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



prised at the backwardness of the ladies to join 
actively in the amusement, the wit and humour of 
the juegos is such, that one only wonders how 
any modest woman can be present at the per- 
formance. 

One night the dance was interrupted by the 
hoarse voice of our worthy friend Don Juan, who 
happened to be in the kitchen on a visit to a fa- 
vourite jar of brandy. The ladies, though pos- 
sessed of strong nerves, shewed evident symptoms 
of alarm ; and we all hurried out of the room, 
anxious to ascertain the cause of the threatening 
tones we had heard. Upon our coming to the hall, 
we found the doughty hero standing at a window 
with a cocked gun in his hands, sending forth a 
volley of oaths, and protesting he would shoot the 
first man who approached his door. The assault, 
however, which he had thus gallantly repulsed, 
being now over, he soon became cool enough to in- 
form us of the circumstances. Two or three in- 
dividuals of the adverse party, who were taking 
their nightly rounds under the windows of their 
mistresses, hearing the revel at Rosa's house, were 
tempted to interrupt it by just setting fire to the 
door of the entrance-hall. The house might, in a 
short time, have been in flames, but for the un- 
quenchable thirst of the owner, which so season- 
ably drew him from the back to the front of the 
building. 

We were once retiring home at break of day, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



169 



when Don Juan, who never quitted us, insisted 
upon our being introduced at that moment to one 
of two brothers of the name of Ribera, who had, 
the evening before, arrived from his farm. Re- 
monstrance was in vain : Don Juan crossed the 
street, and w the wicket opening with a latch," in 
primitive simplicity, we beheld one of the most re- 
nowned braggadocios of Olbera lying in bed, with a 
gun by his side. Ribera, so unceremoniously dis- 
turbed, could not help greeting the visitors in rather 
rough language ; but he was soon appeased, on 
perceiving that we were strangers. He sat up in 
his bed, and handed to me a tumbler of brandy, 
just filled from the ever-present green jar, that stood 
within his reach upon a deal table. The life I was 
leading had given me a severe cough, and the 
muzzle of Ribera' s gun close to my head would 
scarcely have alarmed me more than the brim-full 
rummer with which I was threatened. A terrible 
fit of coughing, however, came to my assistance ; 
and Don Juan interposing in my favour, I was 
allowed to lay down the glass. 

The facetiousness of the two Riberas is greatly 
admired in their town. These loving brothers had^ 
on a certain occasion, gone to bed at their cortijo 
(farm), forgetting to put out the candil, or lamp, 
hung up at the opposite end of the hall. The first 
who had retired urged that it was incumbent on 
him who sat up latest, to have left every thing in 
proper order ; but the offender was too lazy to quit 



170 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

his bed, and a long contest ensued. After much, 
and probably not very temperate disputing, a bright 
thought seemed to have crossed the younger bro- 
ther. And so it was indeed ; for stopping short in 
the argument, he grasped the gun, which, as usual, 
stood by his bed-side, took a sure aim, and put an 
end both to the dispute and its subject, by shooting 
down the candil. The humour of this potent co?i- 
clusion was universally applauded at Olbera. I 
have been assured that the same extinguisher is 
still, occasionally, resorted to by the brothers ; 
and a gun heard in the night, infallibly reminds the 
inhabitants, of the Riberas' lamp. # 



* See Note G. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



171 



LETTER VI. 



Seville,- 1801. 

My residence in this town, after visiting Olbera, 
was short and unpleasant. The yellow-fever, 
which had some months before appeared at Cadiz, 
began to show itself in our large suburb of Triana, 
on the other side of the Guadalquivir. As no mea- 
sures were taken to prevent communication with 
Cadiz, it is supposed that the infection was brought 
by some of the numerous seafaring people that in- 
habit the vicinity of the river. The progress of the 
malady was slow at first, and confined to one side 
of the street where it began. Meetings of all the 
physicians were convened by the chief magistrates, 
who, though extremely arbitrary in matters of daily 
occurrence, are, in Spain, very timid and dilatory 
on any extraordinary emergency. Unconscious of 
the impending danger, the people flocked to these 
meetings to amuse themselves at the expense of our 
doctors, who are notoriously quarrelsome and 
abusive when pitted against each other. A few of 
the most enlightened among them ventured to 



17*2 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

declare that the fever was infectious ; but their 
voice was drowned in the clamour of a large majo- 
rity who wished to indulge the stupid confidence of 
the inhabitants. The disease in the mean time 
crossed the river; and following the direction of the 
street where it originally appeared at Triana — now 
quite overrun by the infection — began its ravages 
within the ancient walls of our town. It was 
already high time to take alarm, and symptoms of 
it were shewn by the chief authorities. Their mea- 
sures, however, cannot fail to strike you as perfectly 
original. No separation of the infected from the 
healthy part of the town : no arrangement for con- 
fining and relieving the sick poor. The governor 
who, by such means, had succeeded in stopping 
the progress of the fever would have been called to 
account for the severity of his measures, and his 
success against the infection turned into a demon- 
stration that it never existed. Anxious, therefore, 
to avoid every questionable step in circumstances 
of such magnitude, the civil authorities wisely re- 
solved to make an application to the archbishop 
and chapter, for the solemn prayers called Rogati- 
vas, which are used in times of public affliction. 
This request being granted without delay, the 
Rogativa was performed at the cathedral for nine 
consecutive days, after sunset. 

The gloom of that magnificent temple, scarcely 
broken by the light of six candles on the high 
altar, and the glimmering of the lamps in the aisles, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



173 



combined with the deep and plaintive tones of forty 
singers chanting the penitential psalms, impressed 
the throng of supplicants with the strongest feel- 
ings, which superstition can graft upon fear and 
distress. 

When the people observed the infection making 
a rapid progress in many parts of the town, not- 
withstanding the due performance of the usual 
prayers, they began to cast about for a more effec- 
tual method of obtaining supernatural assistance. 
It was early suggested by many of the elderly inha- 
bitants, that a fragment of the true Cross, or Lig- 
num Cruets, one of the most valuable relics pos- 
sessed by the cathedral of Seville, should be exhi- 
bited from the lofty tower called Giralda ; for they 
still remembered, when., at the view of that mira- 
culous splinter, myriads of locusts which threa- 
tened destruction to the neighbouring fields, rose 
like a thick cloud, and conveyed themselves away, 
probably to some infidel country. The Lignum 
Cruris, it was firmly believed, would, in like man- 
ner, purify the atmosphere, and put an end to the 
infection. Others, however, without any dispa- 
ragement to the holy relic, had turned their eyes to 
a large wooden crucifix, formerly in great repute, 
and now shamefully neglected, on one of the minor 
altars of the Austin Friars, without the gates of the 
town. The effectual aid given by that crucifix in 
the plague of 1649 was upon record. This won- 
derful image had, it seems, stopped the infec- 



174 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



tion, just when one half of the population of Seville 
had been swept away ; thus evidently saving the 
other half from the same fate. On this ground, 
and by a most natural analogy, the hope was very 
general, that a timely exhibition of the crucifix 
through the streets, would give instant relief to the 
town.^ 

Both these schemes were so sound and rational, 
that the chief authorities, unwilling to shew an 
undue partiality to either, wisely determined to 
combine them into one great lustration. A day 
was, accordingly, fixed for a solemn procession 
to conduct the crucifix from the convent to the 
cathedral, and to ascend the tower for the purpose 
of blessing the four cardinal winds with the Lignum 
Cruris. On that day, the chapter of the cathedral, 
attended by the civil governor, the judges, the 
inquisitors, and the town corporation, repaired to 
the convent of Saint Augustin, and, having placed 
the crucifix upon a moveable stage covered with a 
magnificent canopy, walked before it with lighted 
candles in their hands, while the singers, in a 
mournful strain, repeated the names of the saints 
contained in the Catholic litany, innumerable 
voices joining, after every invocation in the ac- 
customed response — Ora pro nobis. Arrived at 
the cathedral, the image was exposed to public 
adoration within the presbytery, or space reserved 



* See Note H. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



175 



for the ministering clergy, near the high altar. 
After this the dean, attended by the chapter, the 
inferior ministers of the church, and the singers, 
moved in solemn procession towards the entrance 
of the tower, and, in the same order ascended 
the five-and-twenty inclined planes, which afford 
a broad and commodious access to the open belfry 
of that magnificent structure. The worship paid 
to any fragment of the true Cross is next in de- 
gree to that which is due to the consecrated 
host. On the view of the priest in his robes at one 
of the four central arches of the majestic steeple, 
the multitude, who had crowded to the neighbour- 
hood of the cathedral from all parts of the city, fell 
upon their knees, their eyes streaming with tears: 
tears, indeed, which that unusual sight would have 
drawn from the weak and superstitious on any 
other occasion, but which, in the present affliction, 
the stoutest heart could hardly repress. An acci- 
dental circumstance heightened the impressiveness 
of the scene. The day, one of the hottest of an An- 
dalusian summer, had been overcast with electric 
clouds. The priest had scarcely begun to make 
the sign of the cross with the golden vase which 
contains the Lignum Cruets, when one of the tre- 
mendous thunder-storms, so awful in southern cli- 
mates, burst upon the trembling multitude. A 
few considered this phenomenon as a proof that 
the public prayers were heard, and looked upon 
the lightning as the instrument which was to dis- 



176 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



perse the cause of the infection. But the greatest 
number read in the frowns of the sky the unap- 
peased anger of Heaven, which doomed them to 
drain the bitter cup that was already at their lips. 
Alas ! they were not deceived. That doom had 
been sealed when Providence allowed ignorance 
and superstition to fix their dwelling among us ; 
and the evils which my countrymen feared from 
a preternatural interposition of the avenging powers 
above, were ready to arise as the natural conse- 
quences of the means they themselves had employed 
to avert them. The immense concourse from all 
parts of the town had, probably, condensed into a 
focus the scattered seeds of infection. The heat, the 
fatigue, the anxiety of a whole day spent in this 
striking, though absurd, religious ceremony, had 
the most visible and fatal effect on the public 
health. Eight and forty hours after the proces- 
sion, the complaint had left but few houses un- 
visited. The deaths increased in a ten-fold propor- 
tion, and at the end of two or three weeks the daily 
number was from two to three hundred. 

Providence spared me and my best friend by the 
most unforeseen combination of circumstances. 
Though suffering under an obstinate ague, Leandro 
— so he is called at our private club — had deter- 
mined not to quit his college, at the head of which 
he was placed for that year. His family, on the 
other hand, had for some time resided at Alcala de 
Guadaira, a village beautifully situated within twelve 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



177 



miles of Seville. Alarmed at the state of the town, 
and unwilling to leave my friend to perish, either 
by the infection, or the neglect to which the gene- 
ral consternation exposed an invalid, I prevailed 
upon him to join his family, and attended him 
thither. This was but a few days before the reli- 
gious ceremony which I have described from the 
narrative of eye-witnesses. It was my intention to 
have returned to Seville ; but the danger was now 
so imminent, that it would have been madness 
to encounter it without necessity. Thus a visit 
which I meant for a week, was inevitably pro- 
longed to six months. 

For you, however, who love detail in the descrip- 
tion of this hitherto little known country, my time 
was not spent in vain. Yet I must begin by a fact 
which will be of more interest to my old friend, 
Doctor than yourself. 

Alcala de Guadaira is a town containing a popu- 
lation of two thousand inhabitants, and standing on 
a high hilly spot to the north-east of Seville. The 
greatest part of the bread consumed in this city 
comes daily from Alcala, where the abundant and 
placid stream of the Guadaira, facilitates the con- 
struction of water-mills. Many of the inhabitants 
being bakers, and having no market but Seville, 
were under the necessity of repairing thither du- 
ring the infection. It is not with us as in England, 
where every tradesman practically knows the ad- 
vantages of the division of labour, and is at liberty, 

N 



173 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



to consult his own convenience in the sale of 
his articles. The bakers, the butchers, the gar- 
deners, and the farmers, are here obliged to sell in 
separate markets, where they generally spend the 
whole day waiting for customers. Owing to this 
regulation of the police, about sixty men, and 
double that number of mules, leave Alcala every 
day with the dawn, and stand till the evening in 
two rows, inclosed with iron railings, at the Plaza 
del Pan. The constant communication with the 
people from all parts of the town, and so long 
an exposure to the atmosphere of an infected place, 
might have been supposed powerful enough to 
communicate the disease. We, certainly, were in 
daily apprehension of its appearance at Alcala. So 
little, however, can we calculate the effects of 
unknown causes, that of the people that thus 
braved the contagion, only one, who passed the 
night in Seville, caught the disease and died. All 
the others, no less than the rest of the village, con- 
tinued to enjoy the usual degree of health, which, 
probably owing to its airy situation, is excellent at 
all times. 

The daily accounts we received from our city, 
independent of the danger to which we believed 
ourselves exposed, were such as would cast a 
gloom over the most selfish and unfeeling. Super- 
stition, however, as if the prospect had not been 
sufficiently dark and dismal, was busy among us, 
increasing the terrors which weighed down the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



179 



minds of the people. Two brothers, both clergy- 
men, wealthy, proud, conceited of the jargon they 
mistook for learning, and ambitious of power under 
the cloak of zeal, had, upon the first appearance 
of the fever, retreated to Alcala, where they kept 
a country-house. Two more odious specimens of 
the pampered, thorough-bred, full-grown Spanish 
bigot, never appeared in the ranks of the clergy. 
The eldest, a dignitary of the church, was a selfish 
devotee, whose decided taste for good living, and 
mortal aversion to discomfort, had made him cal- 
culate with great nicety how, by an economy of 
pleasure in this world, he might secure a reason- 
able share of it in the next. But whatever degree 
of self-denial was necessary to keep him from gross 
misconduct, he amply repaid himself in the en- 
joyment of control over the consciences and con- 
duct of others. 

From the comparative poverty of the parish 
priests, and the shade into which they are thrown 
by the upper clergy, the power of the first is so 
limited, that the most bigoted and violent among 
them can give but little trouble to the laity. The 
true priest of old times is only to be found among 
those ecclesiastics, who to a dignified office join 
that degree of fanaticism which makes men con- 
ceive themselves commissioned by Heaven to weed 
the world of evil, and tear up by the roots what- 
ever offends their privileged and infallible eyes. 
Thus it was, for instance, that the holy personage 

n 2 



180 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



at Alcala claimed and exercised a right to ex- 
clude from church such females as, by a showy 
dress, were apt to disturb the abstracted, yet sus- 
ceptible minds of the clergy. The lady of a judge 
was, within my recollection, turned by this proud 
bigot out of the cathedral of Seville, in the pre- 
sence of a multitude assembled for the ceremonies 
of the Passion-week. The husband, whose dis- 
pleasure would have brought ruin on a more hum- 
ble individual, was obliged to devour this insult in 
silence. It should be observed, by the way, that 
as the walking-dress of the Spanish females abso- 
lutely precludes immodesty, the conduct of this 
religious madman admits no excuse or palliation. 
Yet this is so far from being a singular instance, 
that, what sumptuary laws would never be able to 
accomplish, the rude and insolent zeal of a few 
priests has fully obtained in every part of Spain. 
Our females, especially those of the better classes, 
never venture to church in any dress but such 
as habit has made familiar to the eyes of the 
zealots. 

Whatever be the feelings that produce it, there 
is, in Spain, a sort of standing crusade against the 
fair sex, which our priests, except such as have 
been secretly gained over to the enemy, carry on 
incessantly, though not with the same vigour, at 
all times. The main subject of contention is a 
right claimed by the clergy to regulate the dress 
of the ladies, and prevent the growth of such arts 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



181 



of charming as might endanger the peace of the 
church. Upon the appearance of a new fashion, 
the u drum ecclesiastic" * never" fails "to ' soun3'''*tne 
war-note. Innumerable are the sermons I heard 
in my younger days against silk shoes — for the 
Spanish females have the extravagance to use them 
out of doors — the wearing of which,, .especially 
embroidered with silk or gold, was declared by 
the soundest divines to be a mortal sin* Patience, 
however, and that watchful perseverance with 
which Nature has armed the weaker sex against 
the tyranny of the stronger, have gradual! ? ob- 
tained a toleration for silk shoes, while taste has 
extenuated the sin by banishing the embroidery. 
Yet the Demon of Millinery had lately set up 
another stumbling-block, by slily suggesting to 
the ladies that their petticoats were monstrous 
long, and concealed those fairy feet and ankles 
which are the pride of Andalusia. The petticoats 
shrunk first by barleycorns ; half an inch was then 
pared off by some bolder sempstress, till at length 
the ground, the former place of safety for conse- 
crated eyes, was found thick set with snares. In 
vain have the most powerful preachers thundered 
against this abomination ; nor did it avail that 
some of our bishops, deeming the occasion worthy 
of their interference, grasped the long-neglected 
pen to enter a most solemn protest against the 
profaneness of the female dress. But the case 
seemed hopeless. A point gained upon petticoats 



182 



LETTERS FROM SFAIN. 



was sure to be lost on top-knots ; and when the 
pious were triumphing on the final subjection of 
projecting stays., a pin threw them into utter con- 
fusion by altering its position on the orthodox 
neck-kerchief. 

Often had some great calamity been foretold 
from the pulpit as the punishment of the incorrigi- 
ble perverseness of our females ; and, on the first 
appearance of the fever, there was but little doubt 
among the chosen few as to its real cause. Many 
a stitch was undone at Seville, and many a flounce 
torn off, by the same pretty hand that, but a few 
days before, had distributed its foldings with a con- 
scious feeling of its future airiness and light flutter- 
ings. The pin, which, in Spain, forces the cambric 
kerchief to do, both morning and evening, the 
transient morning duty of your ruffs and spencers — 
that mysterious pin which vibrates daily at the 
toilette under the contending influence of vanity 
and delicacy — the pm, in short, which, on our 
females, acts as the infallible barometer of devo- 
tion, had risen to the highest point of dryness, 
without, alas ! checking the progress of the disease. 

Our two divines, fearful of being swept away 
with the guilty, were, at this time, perfectly out- 
rageous in their zeal to bring the bakers' wives at 
Alcala to a due sense of the evil influence of their 
glaring, bushy top-knots and short petticoats. 
Having, therefore, with little ceremony to the vicar, 
taken possession of the parish church, they began 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



183 



a course of preaching for nine days, known by the 
name of Novena, a definite number which, with 
many other superstitions, has been applied to reli- 
gious rites among the Catholics since the times 
of Roman paganism. 

Most of the Spanish villages possess some mira- 
culous image- — generally of the Virgin Mary — 
which is Xhc palladium of the inhabitants. These 
tutelar deities are of a very rude and ancient work- 
manship, as it seems to have been the case with 
their heathen prototypes. The " Great Diana" 
of the Alcalazans is a small, ugly, wooden figure, 
nearly black with age, and the smoke of the lamp 
which burns incessantly before it, dressed up in a 
tunic and mantle of silver or gold tissue, and bear- 
ing a silver crown. It is distinguished from the 
innumerable host of wooden virgins by the title 
of Virgen del Aguila — " the Virgin of the Eagle," 
and is worshipped on a high romantic spot, where 
stood a high fortress of the Moors, of which large 
ruins are still visible. A church was erected, pro- 
bably soon after the conquest of Andalusia, on the 
area of the citadel. A spring-well of the most 
delicious water is seen within the precincts of the 
temple, to which the natives resort for relief in all 
sorts of distempers. The extreme purity of both 
air and water, on that elevated spot, may indeed 
greatly contribute to the recovery of invalids, for 
which the Virgin gets all the credit. 

The Nove?ia } which was to avert the infection 



184 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



from the village, would have been inefficient with- 
out the presence of the Eagle patroness, to whom 
it was dedicated. The image was, accordingly, 
brought down to the parish church in a solemn 
procession. The eldest Missionary — for such 
priests as preach, not for a display of eloquence, 
but the conversion of sinners, assume that title 
among us — having a shrill, disagreeable voice, and 
being ap^ when he addressed the people, to work 
himself into a feverish excitement approaching to 
madness, generally devolved that duty on his bro- 
ther, while he devoted himself to the confessionah 
The brother is, indeed, cast in the true mould of 
a popular preacher, such as can make a powerful 
impression on the lower classes of Spain. His 
person is strong, his countenance almost handsome, 
his voice more loud than pleasing. He has, in 
fact, all the characteristics of an Andalusian Mojo : 
jet black passionate eyes, a shining bluish beard 
darkening his cheeks from within an inch of his 
long eye-lashes, and a swaggering gait which, in 
the expressive idiom of the country, gives such as 
move with it, the name of Perdonavidas — Life 
sparers, as if other people owed their lives to the 
mercy, or contempt of these heroes. The effects 
of his preaching were just what people expect on 
similar occasions. A Missionary feels baffled and 
disappointed when he is not interrupted by groans, 
and some part of the female audience will not go 
into hysterics. If he has a grain of spirit about 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



185 



him, such a perverse indifference nettles him into 
a furious passion, and he turns the insensibility of 
his hearers into a visible proof of their reprobate 
state. Thus it often happens, that, the people 
measuring their spiritual danger by the original 
dulness or incomprehensibility of the sermon, the 
final triumph of the missionary is in exact pro- 
portion to his absurdity. To make these wild dis- 
courses more impressive, as well as to suit the con- 
venience of the labouring classes, they are com- 
monly delivered after sunset.. Our orator, it is 
true, omitted the exhibition of a soul in hell-flames, 
which a few years ago was regularly made from 
the pulpit in a transparent picture ; but he worked 
up the feelings of the audience by contrivances 
less disgusting and shocking to common sense. 
Among others he fixed a day for collecting all the 
children of the town under seven years of age, 
before the image of the Virgin. The parents,- as 
well as all others who had attained the age of 
moral responsibility, were declared to be unworthy 
of addressing themselves in supplication, and there- 
fore excluded from the centre of the church, which 
was reserved for the throng of innocent suppliants. 

When the first period of nine days had been 
spent in this mockery of common sense and re- 
ligion, the fertile minds of our missionaries were 
not at a loss to find a second course of the same 
pious mummery, and so on till the infection had 
ceased at Seville. The preservation of the village 



186 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



from the fever which; more or less, had existed for 
three or four months in the neighbouring towns, 
you will easily believe, was attributed by the 
preachers to their own exertions. The only good 
effect, however, which I observed, in consequence 
of their sermons, was the increased attendance of 
the male part of the population at the Rosario de 
Madrugada — the Dawn Rosary — one of the few 
useful and pleasing customs which religion has in- 
troduced in Spain. 

It is an established practice in our country towns 
to awake the labouring population before the break 
of day, that they may be early in readiness to 
begin their work, especially in the corn-fields, 
which are often at the distance of six or eight 
miles from the labourers' dwellings. Nothing but 
religion, however, could give a permanency to this 
practice. Consequently a rosary, or procession, 
to sing praises to the Virgin Mary before the dawn, 
has been established among us from time imme- 
morial. A man with a good voice, active, sober, 
and fond of early rising, is either paid, or volun- 
teers his services, to perambulate the streets an 
hour before day-break, knocking at the doors of 
such as wish to attend the procession, and inviting 
all to quit their beds and join in the worship of the 
Mother of God. This invitation is made in short 
couplets, set to a very simple melody, and accom- 
panied by the pretty and varied tinkling of a hand- 
bell, beating time to the tune. The effect of the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN* 1 87 

bell and voice, especially after a long winter-night, 
has always been very pleasing to me. Nor is the 
fuller chorus of the subsequent procession less so. 
The chant, by being somewhat monotonous, har- 
monizes with the stillness of the hour ; and with- 
out chasing away the soft slumbers of the morning, 
relieves the mind from the ideas of solitude and 
silence, and whispers life and activity returning 
with the approaching day. 

The fever having stopped its ravages about the 
end of autumn, and nearly disappeared a few weeks 
before Christmas, my friend and myself prepared 
to return home. I shall never forget our melan- 
choly arrival in this town on the last evening of 
December. Besides the still existing danger of 
infection to those who had been absent, there was 
a visible change in the aspect of the town, no less 
than in the looks and manner of the inhabitants, 
which could not but strike the most thoughtless on 
the first approach to that scene of recent misery 
and woe. An unusual stillness reigned in every 
street ; and the few pale faces which moved in 
them, worked in the mind a vivid representation of 
the late distress. The heart seemed to recoil from 
the meeting of old acquaintances ; and the signs of 
mourning were every where ready to check the first 
risings of joy at the approach of friends that had 
been spared. 

The Sunday after our arrival, we went, according 
to custom, to the public walk on the banks of the 



188 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



river. But the thousands who made it their resort 
before the late calamity, had now absolutely de- 
serted it. At the end of the walk was the burying- 
ground, which, during the great mortality, had 
been appointed for that quarter of the city. The 
prevalent custom of burying in vaults within the 
churches kept the town unprovided with an ap- 
propriate place for interment out of the walls ; and 
a portion of waste land, or common, now contained 
the remains of ten thousand inhabitants, who in 
their holiday rambles had, not long before, been 
sporting unconsciously over their graves. As we 
approached the large mounds, which, with the 
lofty cross erected on the tur£ were yet the only 
marks which distinguished the consecrated from 
the common ground, we saw one of the Rosarios, 
or processions in honour of the Virgin, slowly ad- 
vancing along the avenue of the public walk. 
Many who formerly frequented that place for re- 
creation, had, under the impression of grief and 
superstitious terror, renounced every species of 
amusement, and marshalling themselves in two 
files, preceded by a cross, and closed by the picture 
of the Virgin on a standard, repaired every Sunday 
to the principal place of burial, where they said 
prayers for the dead. Four or five of these pro- 
cessions, consisting either of males or females, 
passed towards the cemetery as we were returning. 
The melancholy tone in which they incessantly 
sang the Ave Maria and the Lord's Prayer, as they 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



189 



glided along a former scene of life and animation ; 
and the studied plainness of the dresses, contrasted 
with the gay apparel which the same persons used 
to display on that very spot, left us no wish to 
prolong our walk. Among the ladies whose pe- 
nitent dress was most striking, we observed many 
who, not satisfied with mere plainness of attire, 
had, probably under a private vow, clothed them- 
selves in a stuff peculiar to some of the religious 
orders. The grey mixture used by the Franciscans 
was most prevalent. Such vows are indeed very 
common in cases of danger from illness ; but the 
number and class of the females whom we found 
submitting to this species of penance, shewed the 
extent and pressure of the past affliction. 

So transient, however, are the impressions of 
superstitious fear when unsupported by the pre- 
sence of its object, that a few months have sufficed 
nearly to obliterate the signs of the past terror. 
The term of the vows having expired with most, 
our females have recovered their wonted spirits, 
and put aside the dull weeds of their holy patrons. 
Many, it is probable, have obtained from their 
confessors a commutation of the rash engagement, 
by means of a few pence paid towards the ex- 
penses of any war that may arise between his Ca- 
tholic Majesty and Turks or infidels— a Crusade, 
for which government collects a vast yearly sum, 
in exchange for various ghostly privileges and in- 
dulgences, which the King buys from the Pope at a 



190 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



much cheaper rate than he retails them to his 
loving subjects. 

One loss alone will, I fear, be permanent, or of 
long duration to the gay part of this town. The 
theatrical representations, which, on the first ap- 
pearance of the epidemic fever, were stopped, more 
by the clamour of the preachers than the appre- 
hensions of the inhabitants ; will not be resumed 
for years. The opinion formerly entertained by a 
comparatively small number, that the opening of 
the theatre at Seville had never failed to draw Ihe 
vengeance of heaven sometimes on its chief sup- 
porters, sometimes on the whole town ; has been 
wonderfully spread under the influence of the last 
visitation : and government itself, arbitrary and 
despotic as it is among us, would have to pause 
before any attempt to involve this most religious 
city in the unpardonable guilt of allowing a com- 
pany of comedians within its walls. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



191 



LETTER VII. 

Seville, 1803. 

I have connected few subjects with more feel- 
ings of ..disgust and paim than that of the Religious 
Orders in this country. The evil of this institution, 
as it relates to the male sex, is so unmixed, and 
unredeemed by any advantage, and its abuse, as 
applied to females, so common and cruel, that I 
recoil involuntarily from the train of thought 
which I feel rising in my mind. But the time 
approaches, or my wishes overstep my judgment, 
when this and such gross blemishes of society will 
be finally extirpated from the face of the civilized 
world. . The struggle must be long and desperate ; 
and neither the present nor the ensuing generation 
are likely to see the end. Let me, however, flatter 
myself with the idea, that by exposing the mis- 
chievous effects of the existing system, I am con- 
tributing — no matter how little — towards its final 
destruction. Such a notion alone can give me 
courage to proceed. 

Gibbon has delineated, with his usual accuracy, 



192 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

the origin and progress of monastic life;* and to 
his elegant pages I must refer you for information 
on the historical part of my subject. But his ac- 
count does not come down to the establishment of 
the Mendicant Orders of Friars. The distinction, 
however, between these and the Monks is not very 
important. The Monks, as the original name im- 
plies, retired from the world to live in perfect soli- 
tude. As these fanatics increased, many associa- 
tions were formed, whose members, professing the 
same rule of religious life, were distinguished by 
the appropriate name of Ccenobites.~f When, at 
length, the frantic spirit which drove thousands to 
live like wild beasts in the deserts, had relaxed, 
and the original JZremites were gradually gathered 
into the more social establishment of convents, the 
original distinction was forgotten, and the primitive 
name of Monks became prevalent. Still holding 
up their claims to be considered Anachorites, even 
when they had become possessed of lands and 
princely incomes ; their monasteries were founded 
in the neighbourhood, but never within the pre- 
cincts of towns : and though the service of their 
churches is splendid, it is not intended for the 
benefit of the people, and the Monks are seldom 
seen either in the pulpit or the confessional. 

The Friars date their origin from the beginning 
of the thirteenth century, and were instituted for 



* Chapter xxxvii. 



f Persons who live in common. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 193 

the express purpose of acting as auxiliaries to the 
clergy. Saint Dominic, the most odious, and Saint 
Francis, the most frantic of modern saints, enlisted 
their holy troops without any limitation of number ; 
for, by quartering them on the productive popula- 
tion of Christendom, the founders took no concern 
for the daily supply of their numerous followers. 

The Dominicans, however, having succeeded in 
the utter destruction of the Albigenses, and sub- 
sequently monopolized, for more than three centu- 
ries, the office of inquisitors, enriched themselves 
with the- spoils of their victims, and are in the en- 
joyment of considerable wealth. The Franciscans 
continue to thrive upon alms ; and, relying on the 
promise made to Saint Francis in a vision, that his 
followers should never feel want, point to the 
abundant supplies which flow daily into their con- 
vents as a permanent miracle which attests the ce- 
lestial origin of their order. With the historical 
proofs of St. Francis's financial vision I confess 
myself perfectly unacquainted. But when I con- 
sider that the general or chief of these holy beggars, 
derives from the collections daily made by his friars, 
a personal income of twenty thousand a year, I 
cannot withhold my assent to its genuineness ; for 
who, except a supernatural being, could possess 
such a thorough knowledge of the absurdity of 
mankind ? 

It would be tedious to enter into a description of 
the numerous orders comprehended under the two 

o 



194 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



classes of Monks and Friars. The distinguishing 
characters of the first are wealthy ease, and indul- 
gence — those of the last, vulgarity, filth, and vice. 
I shall only add that, among the Monks, the Be- 
nedictines are at the top of the scale for learning 
and decency of manners, while the Hieronimites 
deservedly occupy the bottom. To the Friars I 
am forced to apply the Spanish proverb — P There 

is little to choose in a mangy flock." The Fran- 
ciscans, however, both from their multitude and 
their low habits of mendicity, may be held as the 
proper representatives of all that is most objection- 
able in the religious orders. 

The inveterate superstition which still supports 
these institutions among us has lost, of late, its 
power to draw recruits to the cloister, from the 
middle and higher classes. Few monks, and scarcely 
a friar, can be found, who by taking the cowl, has 
not escaped a life of menial toil. Boys of this rank 
of life are received as novices at the age of fifteen, 
and admitted, after a year s probation, to the per- 
petual vows of obedience, poverty, and celibacy \ En- 
gagements so discordant with the first laws of 
human nature could hardly stand the test of time, 
even if they arose from the deepest feelings of 
enthusiasm. But this affection of the mind is 
seldom found in our convents. The year of novi- 
ciate is spent in learning the cant and gestures of 
the vilest hypocrisy, as well as in strengthening, by 
the example of the professed young friars, the ori- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



195 



ginal gross manners and vicious habits of the pro- 
bations.* The result of such a system is but too 
visible. It is a common jest among the friars them- 
selves, that in the act of taking the vows, when 
the superior of the convent draws the cowl over 
the head of the novice, he uses the words Tolle 
verecundiam — " Put off shame." And indeed, were 
the friars half so true to their profession as they arc 
to this supposed injunction, the Church of Rome 
would really teem with saints. Shameless in beg- 
ging, they share the scanty meal of the labourer, 
and extort a portion of every product of the earth 
from the farmer. Shameless in conduct, they spread 
vice and demoralization among the lower classes, 
secure in the respect which is felt for their pro- 
fession, that they may engage in a course of pro- 
fligacy without any risk of exposure. When an 
instance of gross misconduct obtrudes itself upon 
the eyes of the public, every pious person thinks it 
his duty to hush up the report, and cast a veil on 
the transaction. Even the sword of justice is 
glanced aside from these consecrated criminals. I 
shall not trouble you with more than two cases, 
out of a multitude, which prove the power of this 
popular feeling. 

The most lucrative employment for friars, in 
this town, is preaching. I have not the means to 
ascertain the number of sermons delivered at Seville 



* See Note I. 



m 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



in the course of the year ; but there is good reason 
to suppose that the average cannot be less than 
twelve a-day. One preacher, a clergyman, I know, 
who scarcely passes one day without mounting the 
pulpit, and reckons on three sermons every four- 
and-twenty hours, during the last half of Lent. 

Of these indefatigable preachers, the greatest 
favourite is a young Franciscan friar, called Padre 
R — ■ — z, whose merit consists in a soft clear-toned 
voice, a tender and affectionate manner, and an 
incredible fluency of language. Being, by his pro- 
fession, under a vow of absolute poverty, and the 
Franciscan rule carrying this vow so far as not to 
allow the members of the order to touch money, it 
was generally understood that the produce of these 
apostolical labours was faithfully deposited to be 
used in common by the whole religious community. 
An incident, however, which lately came to light, 
has given us reason to suspect that we are not quite 
in the secret of the internal management of these 
societies of saintly paupers, and that individual in- 
dustry is rewarded among them with a considerable 
share of profits. A young female cousin of the 
zealous preacher in question, was living quite alone 
in a retired part of this town, where her relative 
paid her, it should seem, not unfrequent visits. 
Few, however, except her obscure neighbours, sus- 
pected her connexion with the friar, or had the 
least notion of her existence. An old woman at- 
tended her in the day-time, and retired in the even- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



197 



Ing, leaving her mistress alone in the house. One 
morning the street was alarmed by the old servant, 
who, having gained admittance, as usual, by means 
of a private key, found the young woman dead in 
her bed> the room and other parts of the house 
being stained with blood. It was clear, indeed, 
upon a slight inspection of the body, that no vio- 
lence had taken place ; yet the powerful interest 
excited at the moment, and before measures had 
been taken to hush the whole matter, spread the 
circumstances of the case all over the ■ town, and 
brought the fact to light, that the house itself be- 
longed to the friar, having been purchased by an 
agent with the money arising from his sermons. 
The hungry vultures of the law would have reaped 
an abundant harvest upon any lay individual who 
had been involved in such a train of suspicious cir- 
cumstances. But, probably, a proper douceur out 
of the sermon fees increased their pious tenderness 
for the friar ; while he was so emboldened by the 
disposition of the people to shut their eyes on every 
circumstance which might sully the fair name of a 
son of Saint Francis, that, a few days after the 
event, he preached a sermon, denouncing the curse 
of Heaven on the impious individuals who could 
harbour a belief derogatory to his sacred character. 

Crimes of the blackest description were left un- 
punished during the last reign, from a fixed and 
avowed determination of the King # not to inflict 



* Charles III. 



198 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the punishment of death upon a priest. Town- 
send has mentioned the murder of a young lady 
committed by a friar at San Lucar de Barrameda ; 
and I would not repeat the painful narrative, were 
it not that my acquaintance with some of her rela- 
tives, as well as with the spot on which she fell, 
enables me to give a more accurate statement. 

A young lady, of a very respectable family in the 
above-mentioned town, had for her confessor a friar 
of the Reformed or Unshod Carmelites. I have 
often visited the house where she lived, in front of 
the convent. Thither her mother took her every 
day to mass, and frequently to confession. The 
priest, a man of middle age, had conceived a passion 
for his young penitent, which, not venturing to dis- 
close, he madly fed by visiting the unsuspecting 
girl with all the frequency which the spiritual rela- 
tion in which he stood towards her, and the friend- 
ship of her parents, allowed him. The young 
woman now about nineteen, had an offer of a 
suitable match, which she accepted with the ap- 
probation of her parents. The day being fixed for 
the marriage, the bride, according to custom, went, 
attended by her mother, early in the morning to 
church, to confess and receive the sacrament. After 
giving her absolution, the confessor, stung with the 
madness of jealousy, was observed whetting a 
knife in the kitchen. The unfortunate girl had, 
in the mean time, received the host, and was now 
leaving the church, when the villain, meeting 
her in the porch, and pretending to speak a few 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



199 



words in her ear — a liberty to which his office 
entitled him — stabbed her to the heart in the pre- 
sence of her mother. The assassin did not endea- 
vour to escape. He was committed to prison ; and 
after the usual delays of the Spanish law, was con- 
demned to death. The King, however, commuted 
this sentence into a confinement for life in a fortress 
at Puerto Rico. The only anxiety ever showed by 
the murderer was respecting the success of his 
crime. He made frequent enquiries to ascertain 
the death of the young woman ; and the assurance 
that no man could possess the object of his passion, 
seemed to make him happy during the remainder 
of a long life. 

Instances of enthusiasm are so rare, even in the 
most austere orders, that there is strong ground to 
suspect its seeds are destroyed by a pervading cor- 
ruption of morals. The Observant Franciscans, the 
most numerous community in this town, have not 
been able to set up a living saint after the death, 
which happened four or five years since, of the last 
in the series of servants to the order, who, for time 
immemorial, have been a source of honour and 
profit to that convent. Besides the lay-brothers — » 
a kind of upper servants under religious vows, but 
excluded from the dignity of holy orders — the 
friars admit some peasants, under the name of 
Donados, (Donati, in the Latin of the middle ages,) 
who, like their predecessors of servile condition, give 
themselves up, as their name expresses it, to the 



200 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



service of the convent. As these people are nowa- 
days at liberty to leave their voluntary servitude, none 
are admitted but such as by the weakness of their 
understanding, and the natural timidity arising from 
a degree of imbecility, are expected to continue for 
life in a state of religious bondage. They wear the 
habit of the order, and are employed in the most 
menial offices, unless, being able to act, or rather 
to bear the character of extraordinary sanctity, 
they are sent about town to collect alms for their 
employers. These idiot saints are seen daily with a 
vacillating step, and look of the deepest humility, 
bearing about an image of the child Jesus, to which 
a basket for alms is appended, and offering, not 
their hand, which is the privilege of priests, but the 
end of their right sleeve, to be kissed by the pious. 
To what influence these miserable beings are some- 
times raised, may be learned from a few particulars 
of the life of Hermanito Sebastian (Little Brother 
Sebastian) the last but one of the Franciscan col- 
lectors in this town. 

During the last year of Philip V. Brother Sebas- 
tian was presented to the Infantes, the king's sons, 
that he might confer a blessing upon them. The 
courtiers present, observing that he took most notice 
of the king's third son, Don Carlos, observed to 
him that his respects were chiefly due to the eldest, 
who was to be king. " Nay, nay, (it is reported he 
answered, pointing to his favourite) this shall be 
king too." Some time after this interview, Don 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



201 



Carlos was, by the arrangements which put an end 
to the Succession War, made Sovereign Prince of 
Parma. Conquest subsequently raised him to the 
throne of Naples ; and, lastly, the failure of direct 
heirs to his brother Ferdinand VI. put him in pos- 
session of the crown of Spain. His first and unex- 
pected promotion to the sovereignty of Parma had 
strongly impressed Don Carlos with the idea of 
Sebastians knowledge of futurity. But when, after 
the death of the prophet, he found himself on the 
throne of Spain, he thought himself bound in 
honour and duty to obtain from the Pope the 
Beatification, or Apotheosis, of Little Sebastian. 
The Church of Home, however, knowing the ad- 
vantages of strict adherence to rules and forms, 
especially when a king stands forward to pay the 
large fees incident to such trials, proceeded at a 
pace, compared to which your Court of Chancery 
would seem to move with the velocity of a meteor. 
But when the day arrived for the exhibition, before 
the Holy Congregation of Cardinals, of all papers 
whatever which might exist in the hand-writing of 
the candidate for saintship, and it was found neces- 
sary to lay before their Eminences an original letter, 
which the King carried about his person as an 
amulet ; good Carlos found himself in a most per- 
plexing dilemma. Distracted between duty to his 
ghostly friend, and his fears of some personal mis- 
fortune during the absence of the letter, he exerted 
the whole influence of his crown through the 
Spanish ambassador at Rome, that the trial might 



202 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



proceed upon the inspection of an authentic copy. 
The Pope, however, was inexorable, and nothing 
could be done without the autograph. The king's 
ministers at home, on the other hand, finding him 
restless, and scarcely able to enjoy the daily amuse- 
ment of the chase, succeeded, at length, in bringing 
about a plan for the exhibition of the letter, which, 
though attended with an inevitable degree of 
anxiety and pain to his majesty, was, nevertheless, 
the most likely to spare his feelings. The most 
active and trusty of the Spanish messengers was 
chosen to convey the invaluable epistle to Rome, 
and his speed was secured by the promise of a large 
reward. Orders were then sent to the ambassador 
to have the Holy Congregation assembled on the 
morning when the messenger had engaged to arrive 
at the Vatican. By this skilful and deep-laid plan 
of operations, the letter was not detained more than 
half an hour at Rome ; and another courier re- 
turned it with equal speed to Spain. From the 
moment when the King tore himself from the 
sacred paper, till it was restored to his hands, he did 
not venture once out of the palace. I have given 
these particulars on the authority of a man no less 
known in Spain for the high station he has filled, 
than for his public virtues and talents. He has been 
minister of state to the present King, Charles IV., 
and is intimately acquainted with the secret history 
of the preceding reign.* 



* Jovellanos ; see Appendix, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



203 



Great remnants of self-tormenting fanaticism are 
still found among the Carthusians. Of this order 
we have two monasteries in Andalusia, one on the 
banks of the Guadalquivir, within two miles of our 
gates, and another at Xerez, or Sherry., as that 
town was formerly called in England, a name which 
its wines still bear. These monasteries are rich in 
land and endowments, and consequently afford the 
monks every comfort which is consistent with their 
rule. But all the wealth in the universe could not 
give those wretched slaves of superstition a single 
moment of enjoyment. The unhappy man who 
binds himself with the Carthusian vows, may con- 
sider the precincts of the cell allotted him as his 
tomb. These monks spend daily eight or nine 
hours in the chapel, without any music to relieve 
the monotony of the service. At midnight they 
are roused from their beds, whither they retire at 
sunset, to chaunt matins till four in the morning. 
Two hours rest are allowed them between that service 
and morning prayers. Mass follows, with a short 
interruption, and great part of the afternoon is 
allotted to vespers. No communication is permitted 
between the monks, except two days in the week, 
when they assemble during an hour for conversa- 
tion. Confined to their cells when not attending 
church-service, even their food is left them in a 
wheel-box, such as is used in the nunneries,* 



* See Letter V. page 141. 



204 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



from which they take it when hungry, and eat it in 
perfect solitude. A few books and a small garden, 
in which they cultivate a profusion of flowers, are the 
only resources of these unfortunate beings. To these 
privations they add an absolute abstinence from 
flesh, which they vow not to taste even at the risk 
of their lives. 

I have on different occasions spent a day with 
some friends at the Hospederia, or Strangers Lodge, 
at the Carthusians of Seville, where it is the duty 
of the steward, the only monk who is allowed to 
mix in society, to entertain any male visitors who, 
with a proper introduction, repair to the monastery. 
The steward I knew before my visit to England, 
had been a merchant. After several voyages to 
Spanish America, he had retired from the world, 
which, it was evident in some unguarded moments, 
he had known and loved too well to have entirely 
forgotten. His frequent visits to the town, osten- 
sibly upon business, were not entirely free from 
suspicion among the idle and inquisitive ; and I 
have some reason to believe that these rumours 
were found too well grounded by his superiors. He 
was deprived of the stewardship, and disappeared 
for ever from the haunts of men. 

The austerity of the Carthusian rule of life would 
cast but a transient gloom on the mind of an en- 
lightened observer, if he could be sure that the mi- 
sery he beheld was voluntary ; that hope kept a crown 
of glory before the eyes of every wretched prisoner, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



205 



and that no unwilling victim of a temporary illu- 
sion, was pining for light and liberty, under the 
tombstone sealed over him by religious tyranny. 
But neither the view of the monks, fixed as statues 
in the stalls of their gloomy church, nor those that 
are seen in the darkest recesses of the cloisters, 
prostrate on the marble pavement, where, wrapt 
up in their large white mantles, they spend many 
an hour in meditation ; nor the bent, gliding figures 
which wander among the earthy mounds under the 
orange-trees of the cemetery — that least melancholy 
spot within the wall of the monastery, — nothing 
did ever so harrow my feelings in that mansion 
of sorrow, as the accidental meeting of a repining 
prisoner. This was a young monk, who, to my 
great surprise, addressed me as I was looking at the 
pictures in one of the cloisters of the Carthusians 
near Seville, and very politely offered to shew me 
his cell. He was perfectly unknown to me, and I 
have every reason to believe that I was equally so 
to him. Having admired his collection of flowers, 
we entered into' a literary conversation, and he 
asked me whether I was fond of French literature. 
Upon my shewing some acquaintance with the 
writers of that nation, and expressing a mixed feel- 
ing of surprise and interest at hearing a Carthusian 
venturing upon that topic, the poor young man was 
so thrown off his guard, that, leading me to a book- 
case, he put into my hands a volume of Voltaire's 
Pieces Fugitives, which he spoke of with rapture, 



206 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



I believe I saw a volume of Rousseau's works in the 
collection ; yet I suspect that this unfortunate man's 
select library consisted of amatory rather than philo- 
sophical works. The monk's name is unknown to 
me, though I learned from him the place of his 
birth ; and many years have elapsed since this 
strange meeting, which from its insulation amidst 
the events and impressions of my life, I compare to 
an interview with an inhabitant of the invisible 
world. But I shall never forget the thrilling 
horror I felt, when the abyss of misery into which 
that wretched being was plunged, opened suddenly 
upon my mind. I was young, and had, till that 
moment, mistaken the nature of enthusiasm. Fed 
as I saw it in a Carthusian convent, I firmly be- 
lieved it could not be extinguished but with life. 
This ocular evidence against my former belief was 
so painful, that I hastened my departure, leaving 
the devoted victim to his solitude, there to wait the 
odious sound of the bell which was to disturb his 
sleep, if the subsequent horror of having committed 
himself with a stranger, allowed him that night to 
close his eyes. 

Though the number of Hermits is not considerable 
in Spain, we are not without some establishments 
on the plan of the Lauras described by Gibbon.* 
The principal of these solitudes is Monserrat in 
Catalonia, an account of which you will find in 



* Chapter xxxvii. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



207 



most books of travels. My own observation on 
this point does not, however, extend beyond the 
hermitages of Cordoba, which, I believe, rank 
next to the above-mentioned. 

The branch of Sierra Morena, which to the 
north of Cordoba separates Andalusia from La 
Mancha, rises abruptly within six miles of that 
city. On the first ascent of the hills the country 
becomes exceedingly beautiful. The small rivulets 
which freshen the valleys, aided by the powerful 
influence of a southern atmosphere, transform these 
spots, during April and May, into the most splendid 
gardens. Roses and lilies, of the largest cultivated 
kinds, have sown themselves in the greatest profu- 
sion upon every space left vacant by the mountain- 
herbs and shrubs, which form wild and romantic 
hedges to these native flower-plots. But as you 
approach the mountain-tops to the right and left, 
the rock begins to appear, and the scanty soil, 
scorched and pulverized by the sun, becomes unfit 
for vegetation. Here stands a barren hill of difficult 
approach on all sides, and precipitous towards 
the plain, its rounded head inclosed within a rude 
stone parapet, breast high, a small church rising 
in the centre, and about twenty brick tenements ir- 
regularly scattered about it. The dimensions of 
the huts allow just sufficient room for a few boards 
raised about a foot from the ground, which, co- 
vered with a mat, serve for a bed: a trivet to sit 
upon, a diminutive deal table supporting a crucifix, 



208 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



a human skull, and one or two books of devotion. 
The door is so low that it cannot be passed without 
stooping ; and the whole habitation is ingeniously 
contrived to exclude every comfort. As visiting 
and talking together is forbidden to the hermits, 
and the cells are at some distance from one another, 
a small bell is hung over the door of each, to call 
for assistance in case of sickness or danger. The 
hermits meet at chapel every morning to hear mass 
and receive the sacrament from the hands of a 
secular priest; for none of them are admitted to or- 
ders. After chapel, they retire to their cells, 
where they pass their time in reading, meditation, 
plaiting mats, making little crosses of Spanish 
broom, which people carry about them as a preser- 
vative from erysipelas, and manufacturing instru- 
ments of penance, such as scourges and a sort 
of wire bracelets bristled inside with points, called 
Cilicios, which are worn near the skin by the ultra- 
pious among the Catholics. Food, consisting of 
pulse and herbs, is distributed once a day to 
the hermits, leaving them to use it when they 
please.. These devotees are usually peasants, who, 
seized with religious terrors, are driven to this 
strange method of escaping eternal misery, in the 
next world. But the hardships of their new pro- 
fession are generally less severe than those to 
which they were subject by their lot in life ; and 
they find ample amends for their loss of liberty 
in the certainty of food and clothing without la- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 209 

hour, no less than in the secret pride of superior 
sanctity, and the consequent respect of the people. 

Thus far these hermitages excite more disgust 
than compassion. But when, distracted by super- 
stition, men of a higher order and more delicate 
feelings, fly to these solitudes as to a hiding-plaee 
from mental terrors ; the consequences are often 
truly melancholy. Among the hermits of Cordoba, 
I found a gentleman who, three years before, had 
given up his commission in the army, where he 
was a colonel of artillery, and, what is perhaps 
more painful to a Spaniard, his cross of one of 
the ancient orders of knighthood. He joined our 
party, and showed more pleasure in conversation 
than is consistent with that high fever of enthu- 
siasm, without which his present state of life must 
have been worse than death itself. We stood upon 
the brow of the rock, having at our feet the exten- 
sive plains of Lower Andalusia, watered by the 
Guadalquivir, the ancient city of Cordoba with its 
magnificent cathedral in front, and the mountains 
of Jaen, sweeping majestically to the left. The 
view was to me, then a very young man, truly 
grand and imposing ; and I could not help congra- 
tulating the hermit on the enjoyment of a scene 
which so powerfully affected the mind, and wrapt it 
up in contemplation. " Alas ! (he answered with 
an air of dejection) I have seen it every day these 
three years !" As hermits are not bound to their 
profession by irrevocable vows, perhaps this unfor- 

p 



210 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



tunate being has, after a long and painful struggle, 
returned to the habitations of men, to hide his face 
in an obscure corner, bearing the reproach of apos- 
tacy and backsliding from the bigoted, and the 
sneer of ridicule from the thoughtless; his pros- 
pects blasted for ever in this world, and darkened 
by fear and remorse, in the next. Woe to the 
incautious who publicly engage their services to re- 
ligion, under the impression that they shall be 
allowed to withdraw them upon a change of views, 
or an abatement of fervour. The very few estab- 
lishments of this kind, where solemn vows do not 
banish the hopes of liberty for ever, are full of cap- 
tives, who would fain burst the invisible chains 
that bind them ; but cannot. The church and her 
leaders are extremely jealous of such defections: 
and as few or none dare raise the veil of the sanctu- 
ary, redress is nearly impossible for such as trust 
themselves within it. But of this more in my 
next. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



211 



LETTER VIII. 

Seville, 1805. 

When the last census was made, in 1787, the 
number of Spanish females confined to the cloister, 
for life, amounted to thirty-two thousand. That in 
a country where wealth is small and ill distributed, 
and industry languishes under innumerable re- 
straints, there should be a great number of portion- 
less gentlewomen unable to find a suitable match, 
and consequently glad of a dignified asylum, 
where they might secure peace and competence, if 
not happiness ; is so perfectly natural, that the 
founders and supporters of any institution intended 
to fulfil those objects, would deserve to be reckoned 
among the friends of humanity. But the cruel 
and wicked church law, which, aided by exter- 
nal force, "^iRfe^ttef'Jiuns with perpetual vows, 
makes the convents for females the Bastilles of 
superstition, where many a victim lingers through 
a long life of despair or insanity. 

Though I do not mean to enter into a point of 
theological controversy, I find it impossible to 

p 2 



212 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



dwell for a moment on this subject without ex- 
pressing my utter abhorrence and detestation of 
the cold indifference with which our Church looks 
on the glaring evil consequences of some of its 
laws, when, according to her own doctrines, they 
might be either repealed or amended, without re- 
linquishing any of her chaims. The authority of 
the Roman Pontiff in all matters of church govern- 
ment, is not questioned among Catholics. Yet, 
from a proud affectation of infallibility, even upon 
such points as the most violent partisans of that 
absurd pretention have never ventured to place 
within its reach, the church of Rome has been so 
sparing of the power to reform her laws, that it 
might be suspected she wished to abandon it by 
prescription. Always ready to bind, the heirs of 
Saint Peter have shewn themselves extremely 
averse to the more humane office of loosing on earth, 
except when it served the purposes of gain or am- 
bition. The time, I believe, will never come when 
the church of Rome will agree to make concessions 
on what are called matters of faith. But I cannot 
discover the least shadow of reason or interest for 
the obstinacy which preserves unaltered the bar- 
barous laws relating to the religious vows of 
females ; unless it be that vile animal jealousy, 
which persons, deprived of the pleasures of love, 
are apt to mistake for zeal in the cause of chastity ; 
such zeal as your Queen Elizabeth felt for the 
purity of her maids. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



213 



The nunneries in this town amount to twenty- 
nine. Of these, some are under the exclusive 
jurisdiction of the Friars, whose rule of religious 
life they profess ; and some under that of the Epis- 
copal See. The last, generally follow the monastic 
rules of Saint Benedict, Saint Bernard, or Saint 
Jerom ; and it is remarkable, that the same supe- 
riority which is observable in the secular above the 
regular clergy, is found in the nuns under the 
episcopal jurisdiction. Some of these inhabit large 
convents, whose courts and gardens allow the 
inhabitants ample space for exercise and amuse- 
ment. Instead of narrow cells, the nuns live in 
a comfortable suite of apartments, often at the 
head of a small family of younger nuns whom they 
have educated., or of pupils, not under religious 
vows, whom their parents place there for instruc- 
tion. The life, in fact, of these communities, is 
rather collegiate than monastic ; and were it not 
for the tyrannical law which deprives the pro- 
fessed nuns of their liberty, such establishments 
would be far from objectionable. The dress of 
these nuns is still that which the Duenas, or 
elderly matrons, wore when the convents were 
founded ; with the addition of a large mantle, 
black, white, or blue, according to the custom of 
the order, which they use at the choir. From a 
head-dress not unlike that which, if I may venture 
upon such matters, I believe you call a mob-cap ; 
hangs the black veil. A rosary, or chaplet of 



214 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



black beads with a cross at the end, is seen hang- 
ing over the neck and shoulders, or loosely coiled 
on a leather strap, which tightens the tunic or 
gown to the waist, A slip of cloth of the breadth 
of the shoulders, called the scapulary, hangs down 
to the feet both before and behind, probably with 
a view to conceal every outline of the female shape. 

The mildness of these monastic rules being un- 
satisfactory to the fiery spirit of bigotry, many 
convents have been founded under the title of 
Reformed, where, without the least regard to the 
sex of the votaries, young and delicate females are 
subjected to a life of privation and hardship, as the 
only infallible method of obtaining the favour of 
Heaven. Their dress is a tunic of sackcloth, tied 
round the waist with a knotted rope. The rule 
allows them no linen either for clothing or bedding. 
Woollen of the coarsest kind frets their bodies, 
day and night, even during the burning summers 
of the South of Spain. A mantle of the same sack- 
cloth is the only addition which the nuns make to 
their dress in winter, while their feet, shod with 
open sandals, and without either socks or stockings, 
are exposed to the sharp winter blasts, and the 
deadening chill of the brick-floors. A band of 
coarse linen, two inches in breadth, is worn by 
the Capuchin nuns, bound tight six or eight times 
round the head, in remembrance, it is said, of the 
crown of thorns ; and such is the barbarous spirit 
of the Tule, that it does not allow this band to be 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



215 



taken off, even under an access of fever. A young 
woman who takes the veil in any of the reformed 
convents, renounces the sight of her nearest rela- 
tions. The utmost indulgence, as to communica- 
tion with parents and brothers, extends only to a 
short conversation once a month, in the presence of 
one of the elder nuns, behind a thick curtain spread 
on the inner side of the iron grating, which com- 
pletely intercepts the view. The religious vows, 
however, among the Capuchin nuns, put a final 
end to all communication between parents and 
children. 

To those unacquainted with the character of our 
species of Christianity, it will be difficult to con- 
ceive what motive can influence the mind of a 
young creature of sixteen thus to sacrifice herself 
upon the altars of these Molochs, whom we call 
Saints and Patriarchs. To me these horrid effects 
of superstition appear so natural, that I only won- 
der when I see so many of our religious young 
females still out of the convent. Remorse and 
mental horrors goad some young men into the 
strictest monasteries, while more amiable, though 
equally mistaken views, lead our females to a simi- 
lar course of life. We are taught to believe self- 
inflicted pain to be acceptable to the Deity, both 
as an atonement for crime, and a token of thank- 
fulness. The female character, among us, is a 
compound of the most ardent feelings— vehement 
to delirium, generous to devotedness. What won- 



21G 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



der then if, early impressed with the loveliness 
and sufferings of an incarnate Deity, an exquisitely 
tender mind grow restless and dissatisfied with a 
world, as yet known only through the pictures of 
morose fanatics, and pant after the most effectual 
means of giving her celestial lover an unquestion- 
able proof of gratitude ? The first nascent wish of 
taking the veil is eagerly watched and seized by a 
confessor, who, to a violent jealousy of earthly 
bridegrooms, joins a confident sense of merit in 
adding one virgin more to the ten thousand of the 
spiritual Harem. Pious parents tremble at the 
thought of standing between God and their daugh- 
ter, and often with a bleeding heart lead her to 
the foot of the altar. 

There is an extreme eagerness in the Catholic 
professors of celibacy, both male and female, to 
decoy young persons into the toils from which they 
themselves cannot escape. With this view they 
have disguised the awful ceremony which cuts off 
an innocent girl from the sweetest hopes of nature, 
with the pomp and gaiety, which mankind have 
unanimously bestowed on the-triumph of legitimate 
love. The whole process which condemns a female 
4t to wither on the virgin thorn," and " live a 
barren sister all her life," is studiously made to 
represent a wedding. The unconscious victim, ge- 
nerally in her fifteenth year, finds herself, for some 
time previous to her taking the veil, the queen — 
nay, the idol of the whole community which has 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



217 



obtained her preference. She is constantly ad- 
dressed by the name of bride, and sees nothing but 
gay preparations for the expected day of her spi- 
ritual nuptials. Attired in a splendid dress, and 
decked with all the jewels of her family and friends, 
she takes public leave of her acquaintance ; visits, 
on her way to the convent, several other nunneries, 
to be seen and admired by the recluse inhabitants ; 
and even the crowd which collects in her progress, 
follows her with tears and blessings. As she ap- 
proaches the church of her monastery, the dignifiep 
ecclesiastic who is to perform the ceremony, meets 
the intended novice at the door, and leads her to 
the altar, amid the sounds of bells and musical in- 
struments. The monastic weeds are blessed by 
the priest in her presence ; and having embraced 
her parents and nearest relations, she is led by the 
lady who acts as b ride' s-m aid to the small door next 
to the double grating, which separates the nuns' 
choir from the body of the church. A curtain is 
drawn while the abbess cuts off the hair of the 
novice, and strips her of her worldly ornaments. 
On the removal of the curtain she appears in the 
monastic garb, surrounded by the nuns bearing 
lighted tapers, her face covered with the white veil 
of probationship, fixed on the head by a wreath of 
flowers. After the Te Deum, or some other hymn 
of thanksgiving, the friends of the family adjourn 
to the Lomtory, or visiting-room, where a collation 
of ices and sweetmeats is served in the presence of 



218 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the mock bride, who, with the principal nuns, at- 
tends behind the grating which separates the visitors 
from the inmates of the convent. In the more 
austere nunneries the parting visit is omitted, and 
the sight of the novice in the white veil, imme- 
diately after having her hair cut off, is the last 
which, for a whole year, is granted to the parents. 
They again see her on the day when she binds her- 
self with the irrevocable vows, never to behold her 
more, unless they should live to see her again 
crowned with flowers, when she is laid in the 
grave. 

Instances of novices quitting the convent during 
the year of probation are extremely rare. The ce- 
remony of taking the veil is too solemn, and bears 
too much the character of a public engagement, to 
allow full liberty of choice during the subsequent 
noviciate. The timid mind of a girl shrinks from 
the idea of appearing again in the world, under the 
tacit reproach of fickleness and relaxed devotion. 
The nuns, besides, do not forget their arts during 
the nominal trial of the victim, and she lives a 
whole year the object of their caresses. Nuns, in 
fact, who, after profession, would have given their 
lives for a day of free breathing out of their prison, 
it has been my misfortune to know ; but I cannot 
recollect more than one instance of a novice quit- 
ting the convent ; and that was a woman of ob- 
scure birth, on whom public opinion had no in- 
fluence. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



219 



That many nuns, especially in the more liberal 
convents, live happy, I have every reason to be- 
lieve ; but, on the other hand, I possess indubitable 
evidence of the exquisite misery which is the lot 
of some unfortunate females, under similar circum- 
stances. I shall mention only one case, in actual 
existence, with which I am circumstantially ac- 
quainted. 

A lively and interesting girl of fifteen, poor, 
though connected with some of the first gentry in 
this town, having received her education under an 
aunt who was at the head of a wealthy, and not 
austere, Franciscan convent, came out, as the 
phrase is, to see the world, previous to her taking 
the veil. I often met the intended novice at the 
house of one of her relations, where I visited daily. 
She had scarcely been a fortnight out of the 
cloister, when that world she had learned to abhor 
in description, was so visibly and rapidly winning 
her affections, that at the end of three months she 
could hardly disguise her aversion to the veil. The 
day, however, was now fast approaching which 
had been fixed for the ceremony, without her feel- 
ing; sufficient resolution to decline it. Her father, 
a good but weak man, she knew too well, could 
not protect her from the ill-treatment of an un- 
feeling mother, whose vanity was concerned in 
thus disposing of a daughter for whom she had no 
hopes of finding a suitable match. The kindness 
of her aunt, the good nun to whom the distressed 



220 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

girl was indebted for the happiness of her child- 
hood, formed, besides, too strong a contrast with 
the unkindness of the unnatural mother, not to 
give her wavering mind a strong though painful bias 
towards the cloister. To this were added all the 
arts of pious seduction so common among the re- 
ligious of both sexes. The preparations for the 
approaching solemnity were, in the mean time, in- 
dustriously carried on with the greatest publicity. 
Verses were circulated, in which her confessor sang 
the triumph of Divine Love over the wily sugges- 
tions of the impious. The tuedding-dress was shewn 
to every acquaintance, and due notice of the ap- 
pointed day was given to friends and relatives. But 
the fears and aversion of the devoted victim grew 
in proportion as she saw herself more and more in- 
volved in the toils she had wanted courage to burst 
when she first felt them. 

It was in company with my friend Leandro, with 
whose private history you are well acquainted,* 
that I often met the unfortunate Maria Francisca. 
His efforts to dissuade her from the rash step she 
was going to take, and the warm language in which 
he spoke to her father on that subject, had made 
her look upon him as a warm and sincere friend. 
The unhappy girl on the eve of the day when she 
was to take the veil, repaired to church, and sent 
him a message, without mentioning her name, that 



* See Letter III. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



221 



a female penitent requested his attendance at the 
confessional. With painful surprise he found the 
future novice at his feet, in a state bordering on 
distraction. When a flood of tears had allowed her 
utterance, she told him that, for want of another 
friend in the whole world to whom she could dis- 
close her feelings, she came to him, not, however, 
for the purpose of confession, but because she 
trusted he would listen with pity to her sorrows. 
With a warmth and eloquence above her years, she 
protested that the distant terrors of eternal punish- 
ment, which, she feared, might be the consequence 
of her determination, could not deter her from the 
step by which she was going to escape the inces- 
sant persecution of her mother. In vain did my 
friend volunteer his assistance to extricate her from 
the appalling difficulties which surrounded her : in 
vain did he offer to wait upon the archbishop, and 
implore his interference : no offers, no persuasions 
could move her. She parted as if ready to be con- 
veyed to the scaffold, and the next day took the 
veil. 

The real kindness of her aunt, and the treacher- 
ous smiles of the other nuns, supported the pining 
novice through the year of probation. The scene 
I beheld when she was bound with the perpetual 
vows of monastic life, is one which I cannot recol- 
lect without an actual sense of suffocation. A so- 
lemn mass, performed with all the splendour which 
that eeremony admits, preceded the awful oaths of 



222 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the novice. At the conclusion of the service, she 
approached the superior of the order. A pen, gaily 
ornamented with artificial flowers, was put into her 
trembling hand, to sign the engagement for life, on 
which she was about to enter. Then, standing 
before the iron grate of the choir, she began to 
chaunt, in a weak and fainting voice, the act of 
consecration of herself to God ; but, having uttered 
a few words, she fainted into the arms of the sur- 
rounding nuns. This was attributed to mere fatigue 
and emotion. No sooner had the means employed 
restored to the victim the powers of speech, than, 
with a vehemence which those who knew not her 
circumstances attributed to a fresh impulse of holy 
zeal, and in which the few that were in the painful 
secret saw nothing but the madness of despair; she 
hurried over the remaining sentences, and sealed 
her doom for ever. 

The real feelings of the new votaress were, how- 
ever, too much suspected by her more bigoted or 
more resigned fellow-prisoners ; and time and de- 
spair making her less cautious, she was soon looked 
upon as one likely to bring disgrace on the whole 
order, by divulging the secret that it is possible for 
a nun to feel impatient under her vows. The storm 
of conventual persecution, (the fiercest and most 
pitiless of all that breed in the human heart), had 
been lowering over the unhappy young woman 
during the short time which her aunt, the prioress, 
survived. But when death had left her friendless ? 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



223 



and exposed to the tormenting ingenuity of a crowd 
of female zealots, whom she could not escape for 
an instant ; unable to endure her misery, she re- 
solutely attempted to drown herself. The attempt, 
however, was ineffectual. And now the merciless 
character of Catholic superstition appeared in its 
full glare. The mother, without impeaching whose 
character no judicial steps could be taken to prove 
the invalidity of the profession, was dead ; and 
some relations and friends of the poor prisoner 
were moved by her sufferings to apply to the church 
for relief. A suit was instituted for this purpose 
before the ecclesiastical court, and the clearest 
evidence adduced of the indirect compulsion which 
had been used in the case. But the whole order 
of Saint Francis, considering their honour at stake, 
rose against their rebellious subject, and the judges 
sanctioned her vows as voluntary and valid. She 
lives still in a state approaching to madness, and 
death alone can break her chains. # 

Such an instance of misery is, I hope, one of 
those extreme cases which seldom take place, and 
more seldom transpire. The common source of 
suffering among the Catholic recluses proceeds from 
a certain degree of religious melancholy, which, 
combined with such complaints as originate in per- 
petual confinement, affect more or less the greater 
number. 



* She died in 1821. 



224 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



The mental disease to which I allude is com- 
monly known by the name of Escrupulos, and 
might be called religions anxiety. It is the natural 
state of a mind perpetually dwelling on hopes con- 
nected with an invisible work], and anxiously prac- 
tising means to avoid an unhappy lot in it, which 
keep the apprehended danger for ever present to 
the imagination. Consecration for life at the altar 
promises, it is true, increased happiness in the 
world to come ; but the numerous and difficult 
duties attached to the religious profession, multiply 
the hazards of eternal misery by the chances of 
failure in their performance ; and while the plain 
Christian's offences against the moral law are often 
considered as mere frailties, those of the professed 
votary seldom escape the aggravation of sacrilege. 
The odious diligence of the Catholic moralists has 
raked together an endless catalogue of sins, by 
thought, word, and deed, to every one of which the 
punishment of eternal flames has been assigned. 
This list, alike horrible and disgusting, haunts the 
imagination of the unfortunate devotee, till, re- 
duced to a state of perpetual anxiety, she can 
neither think, speak, nor act, without discovering 
in every vital motion a sin which invalidates all her 
past sacrifices, and dooms her painful eiforts after 
Christian perfection, to end in everlasting misery. 
Absolution, which adds boldness to the resolute 
and profligate, becomes a fresh source of dis- 
quietude to a timid and sickly mind. Doubts in- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 225 

numerable disturb the unhappy sufferer, not, how- 
ever, as to the power of the priest in granting 
pardon, but respecting her own fulfilment of the 
conditions, without which to receive absolution is 
sacrilege. These agonizing fears, cherished and fed 
by the small circle of objects to which a nun is 
confined, are generally incurable, and usually ter- 
minate in an untimely death, or insanity. 

There are, however, constitutions and tempers 
to which the atmosphere of a nunnery seems na- 
tural and congenial. Women of uncommon clever- 
ness and judgment, whose strength of mind pre- 
serves them in a state of rational happiness are 
sometimes found in the cloisters. But the true, 
the genuine nun — such, I mean, as, unincumbered 
by a barbarous rule, and blessed with that Lilipu- 
tian activity of mind which can convert a parlour 
or a kitchen into an universe — presents a most cu- 
rious modification of that amusing character, the 
old maid. Like their virgin sisters all over the 
world, they too have, more or less, a flirting pe- 
riod, of which the confessor is always the happy 
and exclusive object. The heart and soul of almost 
every nun not passed fifty, are centred in the priest 
that directs her conscience. The convent messen- 
gers are seen about the town with lots of spiritual 
billets-doux, in search of a soothing line from the 
ghostly fathers. The nuns not only address them- 
by that endearing name, but will not endure from 
them the common form of speech in the third 
person : — they must be tutoye, as children are hy° 

a 



226 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



their parents. Jealousy is a frequent symptom of 
this nameless attachment ; and though it is im- 
possible for every nun to have exclusive possession 
of her confessor, few will allow the presence of a 
rival within their own convent. 

I do not intend, however, to cast an imputation 
of levity on the class of Spanish females which 
I am describing. Instances of gross misconduct 
are extremely rare among the nuns. Indeed, the 
physical barriers which protect their virtue are 
fully adequate to guard them against the conse- 
quences of a most unbounded intimacy with their 
confessors. Neither would I suggest the idea that 
nothing but obstacles of this kind keeps them, in 
all cases, within the bounds of modesty. My only 
object is to expose the absurdity and unfeeling- 
ness of a system which, while it surrounds the 
young recluses with strong walls, massive gates, 
and spiked windows, grants them the most in- 
timate communication with a man — often a young 
man — that can be carried on in words and writing. 
The struggle between the heart thus barbarously 
tried, and the unnatural duties of the religious 
state, though sometimes a mystery to the modest 
sufferer, is plainly visible in most of the young 
captives. 

About the age of fifty, (for spiritual flirtation 
seldom exhausts itself before that age,) the genuine 
nun has settled every feeling and affection upon 
that shifting centre of the universe, which, like 
some circles in astronomy, changes with every 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



227 



step of the individual— -I mean self. It has been 
observed that no European language possesses a 
true equivalent for your English word comfort ; 
and, considering the state of this country, Spanish 
would have little chance of producing a similar 
substantive, were it not for some of our nuns, who, 
as they make a constant practical study of the 
subject, may, at length, enrich our dictionary 
with a name for what they know so well without 
it. Their comforts, however, poor souls ! are still 
of an inferior kind, and arise chiefly from the in- 
dulgence of that temper, which, in the language 
of your ladies maids, makes their mistresses very 
particular ; and which, by a strange application 
of the word, confers among us the name of imper- 
tinente. The squeamishness, fastidiousness, and 
morbid sensibility of nuns, make that name a pro- 
verbial reproach to every sort of affected delicacy. 
As great and wealthy nunneries possess consider- 
able influence, and none can obtain the patronage 
of the Holy Sisters (Mothers, they are called by 
the Spaniards,) without accommodating themselves 
to the tone and manners of the society ; every per- 
son, male or female, connected with it, acquires a 
peculiar mincing air, which cannot be mistaken by 
an experienced observer. But in none does it ap- 
pear more ludicrously than in the old-fashioned 
nun-doctors. Their patience in listening to long, 
minute, and often-told reports of cases ; the mock 
authority with which they enforce their prescrip- 
tions, and the peculiar wit they employ to raise the 

a2 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



spirits of their patients, would, in a more free coun- 
try, furnish comedy with a most amusing cha- 
racter. Some years ago a very stupid practitioner 
bethought himself of taking orders, thus to unite 
the spiritual and bodily leech, for the convenience 
of nuns. The Pope granted him a dispensation of 
the ecclesiastical law, which forbids priests to 
practise physic ; and he found himself unrivalled in 
powers, among the faculty. The scheme suc- 
ceeded so well that our doctor sent home for a lad, 
his nephew, whom he has brought up in this two- 
fold trade, which, for want of direct heirs, of which 
priests in this country cannot boast, is likely to be 
perpetuated in the collateral branches of that family. 
With regard to their curative system, as it applies 
to the souls, I am a very incompenent judge : the 
body, I know — at least the half-spiritualized bodies 
of the nuns — they treat exclusively with syrups. 
This is a fact of which I have a melancholy proof 
in a near relation, a most amiable young woman, 
who was allowed to drop into an early grave, while 
her growing disease was opposed with nothing but 
syrup of violets ! I must add, however, that the 
wary doctor, not forgetting the ghostly concerns of 
his patient, never omitted to add a certain dose of 
Agnus Castus to every ounce of the syrup ; a 
practice to which, he once told a friend of mine, 
both he and his uncle most religiously adhered 
when attending young nuns, with the benevolent 
purpose of making their religious duties more 
'.easy., s'x ju$ 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



LETTER IX, 



Seville, 1806. 

As, in order to help my memory, I have been 
for some time collecting notes under different heads, 
relative to the customs, both public and private, 
which are most remarkable in the annual circle 
of Sevillian life, I find myself possessed of a number 
of detached scraps, which, though affording abun- 
dant matter for more than one of my usual dis- 
patches, are much too stubborn to bend themselves 
into any but their original shape. After casting 
about in my mind for some picturesque or dramatic 
plan of arrangement, I had, most cowardly, I con- 
fess, and like a mere novice in the art of author- 
ship, determined to suppress the detached contents 
of my common-place book, when it occurred to 
me that, as they were no less likely to gratify 
your curiosity in their present state than in a more 
elaborate form, a simple transcript of my notes 
would not stand amiss in the collection of my 
letters. I shall, therefore, present you with the 
following sample of my Fasti Hispalenses, or Se~ 



230 



LETTERS FROM SFA1N. 



villian Almanack, without, however, binding myself 
to furnish it with the three hundred and sixty-five 
articles which that name seems to threaten. Or, 
should you still find the title too ambitious and 
high-sounding for the mere gossip and prattle of 
this series of scraps, I beg you will call it (for 
I have not the heart to send out my productions 
not only shapeless, but nameless) 

MEMORANDUMS OF SOME ANDALUSIAN 
CUSTOMS AND FESTIVALS. 

JANUARY 20TH. SAINT SEBASTIANS DAY. 

Carnival has been ushered in, according to an 
ancient custom which authorises so early a com- 
mencement of the gaieties that precede Lent. 
Little, however, remains of that spirit of mirth 
which contrived such ample amends for the de- 
mure behaviour required during the annual grand 
fast. To judge from what I have seen and heard in 
my boyhood, the generation who lived at Seville 
before me, were, in their love of noisy merriment, 
but one step above children ; and contrived to pass 
a considerable portion of their time in a round 
of amusements, more remarkable for jollity than 
for either show or refinement ; yet unmixed with 
any grossness or indecorum, j I shall give a speci- 
men in a family of middle rank, whose circum- 
stances were not the most favourable to cheerful- 
ness. 



LETTERS FROM SFAIN. 



231 



The joy and delight of my childhood was cen- 
tered in the house of four spinsters of the good old 
times, who, during a period of hetween fifty and 
sixty years, passed cc in single blessedness/' and 
with claims to respectability, as ample as their 
means of supporting it were scanty; had waged the 
most resolute and successful war against melan- 
choly, and were now the seasoned veterans of 
mirth. Poverty beingjnojsource of degradation 
among us, these Sadies had a pretty numerous cir- 
cle of friends, who, with their young families, fre- 
quented their house — one of the old, large, and 
substantial buildings which, for a trifling rent, may 
be had in this town, and which care and neatness 
have kept furnished for more than a century, with- 
out the addition or substitution of a single article. 
In a lofty drawing-room, hung round with tapestry, 
the faded remnants of ancient family pride, the 
good old ladies were ready, every evening after 
sunset, to welcome their friends, especially the 
young of both sexes, to whom they showed the 
most good-natured kindness. Their scanty revenue 
did not allow them to treat the company with the 
usual refreshments, except on particular days — an 
expense which they met by a well-planned system 
of starvation, carried on throughout the year, with 
the utmost good humour. An ancient guitar, as 
large as a moderate violoncello, stood up in a cor- 
ner of the room, ready at a moment's notice, to stir 
up the spirits of the young people into a dance 



232 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



of the Spanish Seguidillas, or to ' accompany the 
songs which were often forfeited in the games that 
formed the staple merriment at this season. 

The games, in truths which in England are 
nearly forgotten, even within their last asylums — - 
ladies' schools and nurseries, — were thirty years 
ago a favourite amusement in this country. That 
they have, at some period, been common to a great 
part of Europe, will not be- doubted by any one 
who, like myself, may attach such importance 
to this subject as to be at the trouble of comparing 
the different sports of that kind which prevail in 
France, England, and Spain. I wish, indeed, that 
antiquarians were a more jovial and volatile race 
than I have found them in general ; and that some 
one would trace up these amusements to their com- 
mon source. The French, with that spirit of 
system and scientific arrangement which even their 
perfumers, Marchandes de Modes, and dancing- 
masters display, have already, according to a trea- 
tise now lying before me, distributed these games 
into Jenoc d" action and Jeux d? esprit. 

In marking their similarity among the three 
nations I have mentioned, I shall pass over the 
former ; for who can doubt that romping (so I 
will venture, though less elegantly, to express the 
French action) is an innate principle in mankind, 
impelling the human animal to similar pranks 
all over the globe, from the first to the third of his 
climacterics? But to find that, just at the age 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 23o 

when he perceives the necessity of assuming the 
demureness of maturity, he should, in different 
places and under a variety of circumstances, fall 
upon the same contrivances in order to desipere in 
loco, or to find a loop-hole to indulge himself in 
playing the fool, is a phenomenon which I beg 
leave to recommend to the attention of philoso- 
phers. 

The jeua? d' esprit, which I find to be used, with 
some slight variations, in France, England, and 
Spain, or, at least, in some two of those countries, 
are — The Aviary, or giving the heart to one bird, 
committing one's secret to another, and plucking a 
feather from a third ; at the risk of mistaking 
the objects of the intended raillery or gallantry, 
disguised under the name of different birds. — In 
The Soldier, the players being questioned by the 
leader about the clothing they mean to give a 
decayed veteran, must avoid the words yes, no, 
white, and black. The ingenuity displayed in this 
game is much of the kind that appears in some 
of our tales of the seventeenth century, where 
the author engaged to omit some particular vowel 
throughout his narrative. — Exhausting a letter, each 
player being obliged to use three words with the 
initial proposed by the leader. The English game, 
/ love my love, is a modification of this : in Spanish 
it is commonly called el Jardin, the Garden. — La 
Plaza de Toros, or the Bull Amphitheatre, in 
French, U Amphigouri, is a story made up of 



'234 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



words collected from the players, each of whom 
engages to name objects peculiar to some trade. — ■ 
Le 7)iot place, a refinement on Cross purposes, in 
Spanish Los Despropositos, is a game in which 
every player in the ring, having whispered to his 
neighbour, on the right, the most unusual word 
he can think of, questions are put in the opposite 
direction, the answer to which, besides being per- 
tinent, must contain the given word. — The stool of 
repentance, (Gallice) La Sellette, (Hi span.) La 
Berlina, is, as my French author wisely observes, a 
dangerous game, where the penitent hears his 
faults from every one in company through the me- 
dium of the leader, till he can guess the person who 
has nettled him most by his remarks. 

I will not deny that a taste among grown people 
for these childish amusements, bespeaks a great want 
of refinement ; but I must own, on the other hand, 
that there is a charm in the remnants of primitive 
simplicity, which gave a relish to these scenes of 
domestic gaiety, not to be found in the more af- 
fected manners of the present day. The French, 
especially in the provinces, are still addicted to 
these joyous, unsophisticated family meetings. For 
my part, I lament that the period is nearly gone by, 
when neither bigotry nor fastidiousness had as yet 
condemned those cheap and simple means of giving 
vent to the overflow of spirits, so common in the 
youth of all countries, but more especially under 
this our animating sky ; and cannot endure with 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



235 



patience, that fashion should begin to disdain those 
friendly meetings, where mirth and joy, springing 
from the young, diffused a fresh glow of life over the 
old, and Hope and Remembrance seemed to shake 
hands with Pleasure in the very teeth of Time. 

As Carnival approached, the spirit of romping 
gained fast upon its assiduous votaries, till it ended 
in a. full possession, which lasted the three days pre- 
ceding Ash- Wednesday. 

The custom alluded to by Horace of sticking 
a tail,* is still practised by the boys in the streets, 
to the great annoyance of old ladies, who are ge- 
nerally the objects of this sport. One of the ragged 
striplings that wander in crowds about Seville, 
having tagged a piece of paper with a hooked pin, 
and stolen unperceived behind some slow-paced 
female, as, wrapt up in her veil, she tells the beads 
she carries in her left hand ; fastens the paper-tail 
on the back of the black or walking petticoat, called 
Say a. The whole gang of ragamuffins, who, at a 
convenient distance, have watched the dexterity of 
their companion, set up a loud cry of Ldrgalo, 
Idrgalo — Drop it, drop it — which makes every 
female in the street look to the rear, which, they 

* . . . Nibilo ut sapientior, ille 
Qui te deridet, caudam trahat, Sat. II. Hi. 

So he who dared thy madness to deride, 
Though you may frankly own yourself a fool, 
Behind him trails his mark of ridicule, 

Francis. 



236 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



well know is the fixed point of attack with the merry 
light-troops. The alarm continues till some friendly 
hand relieves the victim of sport, who, spinning and 
nodding like a spent top, tries in vain to catch a 
glance at the fast-pinned paper, unmindful of the 
physical law which forbids her head to revolve 
faster than the great orbit on which the ominous 
comet flies. 

Carnival, properly so called, is limited to Quin- 
quagesima-Sunday, and the two following days, a 
period which the lower classes pass in drinking and 
rioting in those streets where the meaner sort of 
houses abound, and especially in the vicinity of the 
large courts, or halls, called Corrales, surrounded 
with small rooms or cells, where numbers of the poor- 
est inhabitants live in filth, misery, and debauch. 
In front of these horrible places are seen crowds 
of men, women, and children, singing, dancing, 
drinking, and pursuing each other with handfuls of 
hair-powder. I have never seen, however, an in- 
stance of their taking liberties with any person 
above their class ; yet, such bacchanals produce a 
feeling of insecurity, which makes the approach of 
those spots very unpleasant during the Carnival. 

At Madrid, where whole quarters of the town, 
such as Avapies and Maravittas, are inhabited ex- 
clusively by the rabble, these Saturnalia are per- 
formed upon a larger scale. I once ventured with 
three or four friends, all muffled in our cloaks, to 
parade the Avapies during the Carnival. The 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 23/ 

streets were crowded with men, who, upon the 
least provocation, real or imaginary, would have 
instantly used the knife, and of women equally 
ready to take no slight share in any quarrel : for 
these lovely creatures often carry a poniard in a 
sheath, thrust within the upper part of the left 
stocking, and held up by the garter. We were, 
however, upon our best behaviour, and by a look of 
complacency on their sports, and keeping at the 
most respectful distance from the women, came 
away without meeting with the least disposition to 
insolence or rudeness. 

A gentleman who, either out of curiosity or de- 
praved taste, attends the amusements of the vulgar, 
is generally respected, provided he is a mere spec- 
tator, and appears indifferent to the females. The 
ancient Spanish jealousy is still observable among 
the lower classes ; and while not a sword is drawn 
in Spain upon a love-quarrel, the knife often 
decides the claims of more humble lovers. Yet, love 
is, by no means, the main instigator of murder among 
us. A constitutional irritability, especially in the 
southern provinces, leads, without any more as- 
signable reason, to the frequent shedding of blood. 
A small quality of wine, nay, the mere blowing of 
the easterly wind, called Solano, is infallibly at- 
tended with deadly quarrels in Andalusia. The 
average of dangerous or mortal wounds, on every 
great festival at Seville, is, I believe, about two or 
three. We have, indeed, a well-endowed hospital, 



238 



LETTERS FROM S?A!N. 



named de los Hendos, which, though open to all 
persons who meet with dangerous accidents, is 
from this unhappy disposition of the people, almost 
confined to the wounded. The large arm-chair 
where the surgeon in attendance examines the 
patient just as he is brought in, usually upon a 
ladder, is known in the whole town by the name 
of the Bullies' chair — Silla de los Guapos. Every 
thing, in fact, attests both the generality and inve- 
teracy of that horrible propensity among the 
Spaniards. I have met with an original unpub- 
lished privilege granted in 1511, by King Don 
Manoel of Portugal, to the German merchants 
established at Lisbon, w T hereby their servants, to 
the number of six, 4 are allowed to carry arms both 
day and night, provided such privileged servants be 
not Spaniards." 5 * Had this clause been inserted 
after the Portuguese nation had thrown off the 
Spanish yoke, I should attribute it to political 
jealousy ; but, considering its date, I must look 
upon it as proving the inveteracy and notoriety of 
the barbarous disposition, the mention of which has 
led me into this digression. 

The Carnival amusements still in use among 
the middling ranks of Andalusia are, swinging, play- 
ing all manner of tricks on the unwary, such as 
breaking egg-shells full of powdered talc on the 

* " Os quais servidores nao serao Hespanhoes para gozarem 
cle dita libertade. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



head, and throwing handfuls of small sugar-plums 
at the ladies, which they repay with hcsprinkling 
the assailants with water from a squirt. This last 
practical joke, however, begins to be disused, and 
increased refinement will soon put an end to them 
all. Dancing and a supper to the frequenters of 
the daily Terluiia, is, on one of the three days of 
Carnival, a matter of course among the wealthy, 

ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

The frolics of Carnival are sometimes carried on 
till the dawn of this day, the first of the long fast 
of Lent, when a sudden and most unpleasant tran- 
sition takes place for such as have set no bounds to 
the noisy mirth of the preceding season. But, as 
the religious duties of the church begin at midnight, 
the amusements of Shrove-Tuesday cease, in the 
more correct families, at twelve, just as your Opera 
is hurried, on Saturdays, that it may not encroach 
on the following day. 

Midnight is, indeed, a most important period 
with us. The obligation of fasting begins just when 
the leading clock of every town strikes twelve ; and 
as no priest can celebrate mass, on any day what- 
ever, if he has taken the smallest portion of meat 
or drink after the beginning of the civil day, I have 
often seen clergymen devouring their supper against 
time, the watch upon the table, and the anxious 
eye upon the fatal hand, while large mouthfuls, 



240 LETTERS FROM SPAlft. 

chasing one another down their almost convulsed! 
throats, appeared to threaten suffocation. Such 
hurry will seem incredible to your well-fed En- 
glish men, for whom supper is an empty name. Not 
so to our worthy divines, who, having had their 
dinner at one, and a cup of chocolate at six, feel 
strongly the necessity of a substantial supper before 
they retire to bed. A priest, therefore, who, by 
some untoward accident, is overtaken by " the dead 
waste and middle of the night," with a craving 
stomach, having to perform mass at a late hour 
next morning, may well feel alarmed at his impend- 
ing sufferings. The strictness, in fact, with which 
the rule of receiving the Sacrament into a fasting 
stomach is observed, will hardly be believed in a 
Protestant country. I have known many a profli- 
gate priest ; yet never but once met with any who 
ventured to break this sacramental fast. The in- 
fraction of this rule would strike horror into every 
Catholic bosom ; and the convicted perpetrator of 
such a daring sacrilege as dividing the power of 
digestion between the Host and common food, 
would find it difficult to escape the last vengeance 
of the Church. This law extends to the laity 
whenever they intend to communicate. 

I must now acquaint you with the rules of the 
Roman Catholic fast, which all persons above the 
age of one-and-twenty, are bound to observe during 
Lent, Sundays excepted. One meal alone, from 
which flesh, eggs, milk, and all its preparations, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



241 



such as cheese and butter, called Lacticinia, are ex- 
cluded, is allowed on a fast day. It is under this 
severe form that your English and Irish Catholics 
are bound to keep their Lent. But we Spaniards 
are the darlings of our Mother Church of Rome, 
and enjoy most valuable privileges. The Bull of 
the Crusade, in the first place, dispenses with our 
abstinence from eggs and milk. Besides throwing 
open the hen-house and dairy, the said Bull unlocks 
the treasure of laid-up merits, of which the Pope 
keeps the key, and thus we are refreshed both in 
body and soul, at the trifling cost of about three- 
pence a-year. Yet we should have been compelled 
to live for forty days on your Newfoundland fish — 
not a savoury food in these hot countries — had it 
not been for a new kind of hostilities which our 
Government, in concert with the Pope, devised 
against England, I believe during the siege of Gib- 
raltar. By allowing the Spaniards to eat meat four 
days in the Lent weeks, it was proposed to diminish 
the profits which Great Britain derives from the 
exportation of dried fish. We had accordingly an- 
other privilege, under the title of Flesh-Bull, at the 
same moderate price as the former. This addi- 
tional revenue was found too considerable to be re- 
linquished on the restoration of peace ; and the 
Pope, who has a share in it, soon discovered that 
the weakness of our constitutions requires more 
solid nutriment than the dry chips of the New- 
foundland fish can afford. 

R 



242 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



The Bull of the Crusade is proclaimed, every 
year before Lent, by the sound of kettle-drums 
and trumpets. As no one can enjoy the privileges 
expressed in these papal rescripts without possessing 
a printed copy thereof, wherein the name of the 
owner is inserted ; there is a house at Seville with 
a printing-office, by far the most extensive in 
Andalusia, where, at the expense of Government, 
these Bulls are reprinted every year, both for Spain 
and Spanish America. Now, it has been wisely 
arranged that, on the day of the yearly publication, 
copies for the preceding twelvemonth shall be- 
come absolutely stale and unprofitable ; a measure 
which produces a most prodigious hurry to obtain 
new Bulls, in all who wish well to their souls and 
do not quite overlook the ease and comfort of their 
stomachs. 

The article of Bulls hold a conspicuous station 
in the Spanish budget. The price of the copies 
being, however, more than double in Spanish Ame- 
rica, it is from thence that the chief profit of this 
spiritual juggle arises. Cargoes of this holy paper 
are sent over every year by Government to all our 
transatlantic possessions, and one of the most se- 
vere consequences of a war with England, is the 
difficulty of conveying these ghostly treasures to 
our brethren of the New World, no less than that 
of bringing back the worldly, yet necessary, dross, 
which they give in exchange to the Mother-country. 
But I fear I am betraying state secrets. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 243 
MID-LENT. 

We have still the remnants of an ancient custom 
this day, which shews the impatient feelings with 
which men sacrifice their comforts to the fears of 
superstition. Children of all ranks — those of the 
poor in the streets, and such as belong to the 
better classes in their houses — appear fantastically 
decorated, not unlike the English chimney-sweep- 
ers on May-day, with caps of gilt and coloured 
paper, and coats made of the Crusade Bulls of the 
preceding year. In this attire they keep up an in- 
cessant din the whole day, crying, as they sound 
their drums and rattles, Aserrar la vieja ; la picara 
pelleja : " Saw down the old woman, the roguish 
b — ch." About midnight, parties of the common 
people parade the streets, knocking at every door, 
and repeating the same words. I understand that 
they end this revel by sawing in two, the figure of 
an old woman, which is meant as the emblem of 
Lent. 

There is little ground, however, for these peevish 
feelings against old Lent, among the class that ex- 
hibits them most; for few of the poorer inhabi- 
tants of large towns taste any meat in the course 
of the year, and, living as they do upon a very 
scanty pittance of bread and pulse, can ill afford to 
confine themselves to one meal in the four-and- 
twenty hours. The privations of the fasting season 
are felt chiefly by that numerous class who, unable 

r 2 



244 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

A fiiU^L Ufff ^ 

the other hand, a strong sense of religious duty ; 

submit like unwilling slaves to the unwelcome task 
which they dare not omit. Many, however, fall 
off before the end of Lent, and take to their break- 
fasts and suppers under the sancticn of some good- 
natured Doctor, who declares fasting injurious to 
their health. Others, whose healthy looks would 
belie the dispensing physician, compound between 
the Church and their stomachs by adding an ounce 
of bread to the cup of chocolate which, under the 
name of Parvedad, our divines admit as a venial 
infraction. There is, besides, a fast-day supper, 
which was introduced by those good souls the pri- 
mitive Monks at their evening conferences, where, 
finding that an empty stomach was apt to increase 
the hollowness of their heads, they allowed them- 
selves a crust of bread and a glass of water, as a 
support to their fainting eloquence. This relaxa- 
tion of the primitive fast took the name of Collatio, 
or conference, which it preserves among us. The 
Catholic casuists are not agreed, however, on the 
quantity of bread and vegetables, (for any other 
food is strictly excluded from the collation,) which 
may be allowed without being guilty of a deadly 
sin. The Probabilistce extend this liberty as far as 
six ounces by weight, while the Probabiliorista will 
not answer for the safety of a hungry soul, who in- 
dulges beyond four ounces. Who shall decide when 
doctors disagree ? I have known an excellent man 
who weighed his food on these occasions till he 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



245 



brought it within some grains of four ounces. But 
few are inclined to take the matter so seriously, 
and, confiding in the deceitful balance of their eyes, 
use a system of weights in which four ounces fall 
little short of a pound.* 

PASSION, OR HOLY WEEK. 

Pandite, nunc, Helicona, De(B, might I say, in 
the true spirit of a native of Seville, when entering 
upon a subject which is the chief pride of this town. 
To tell the honest truth, we are quizzed every where 
for our conceit of these solemnities ; and it is a 
standing joke against the Sevillians, that on the ar- 
rival of the King in summer, it was moved in the 
Cabildo, or town corporation, to repeat the Passion- 
week for the amusement of his Majesty. It must 
be owned, however, that our Cathedral service on 
that solemn Christian festival yields not in i in p res- 
si veness to any ceremonies of modern worship, 
to dispel their superstitious fear, and wanting, on 

* The Casuists are divided into Probabilistce and Proba- 
bilioristce. The first, among whom were the Jesuits, maintain 
that a certain degree of probability as to the lawfulness of an 
action is enough to secure against sin. The second, supported by 
the Dominicans and the Jansenists (a kind of Catholic Calvinists, 
condemned by the Church) insist on the necessity of always 
taking the safest, or most probable side. The French proverb 
Le mieux est Vennemi du Men, is perfectly applicable to the 
practical effects of these two systems, as they are observed in 
Spain. 



246 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



with which I am acquainted, either by sight or 
description. 

It is impossible to convey in words an adequate 
idea of architectural grandeur. The dimensions 
of a temple do not go beyond a certain point in 
augmenting the majesty of effect. A temple may 
be so gigantic as to make the worshippers mere 
pigmies. An immense structure, though it may be 
favourable to contemplation, must greatly diminish 
the effect of such social rites as aim at the imagina- 
tion through the senses. I have been told by a 
native of this town, who visited Rome, and on 
whose taste and judgment I greatly depend, that 
the service of the Passion-week at Saint Peters, 
does not produce a stronger effect on the mind than 
that of our Cathedral. If this impression did not 
arise from the power of early habit, I should ac- 
count for it from the excessive magnitude of the 
first temple in Christendom. The practice, also, 
of confining the most striking and solemn cere- 
monies to the Sixtine Chapel seems to shew that the 
Romans find the Church of Saint Peter unfavour- 
able to the display of religious pomp. I shall add, 
though fearful of venturing too far upon a subject 
with which I am but slightly acquainted, that the 
ancients appear to have been careful not to di- 
minish the effect of their public worship by the 
too large dimensions of the temples. 

The size of our Cathedral seems to me happily 
adapted to the object of the building. Three hun- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 247 

dred and ninety-eight feet long by two hundred 
and ninety-one broad — the breadth distributed into 
five aisles, formed by one hundred and four arches, 
of which those of the centre are one hundred and. 
thirty-four feet high, and the rest ninety-six — re- 
move the limits of an undivided structure enough 
to require that effort of the eye and pause of the 
mind before we conceive it as a whole, which ex- 
cites the idea of grandeur. This, I believe, is the 
impression which a temple should produce. To 
aim at more is to forget the solemn performances 
for which the structure is intended. Let the house 
of prayer, when solitary, appear so ample as not to 
exclude a single suppliant in a populous town ; yet 
let the throng be visible on a solemn feast. Let 
the loftiness of the aisles soften the noise of a moving 
multitude into a gentle and continuous rustling ; 
but let me hear the voice of the singers and the 
peals of the organ returned in deep echoes ; not 
lost in the too distant vaults. 

The^jsim^ of architectural 

and ritual magnificence produced at the Cathedral 
of Seville is, I conceive, difficult to be rivalled. The 
pillars are not so massive as to obstruct the sight at 
every turn ; and were the influence of modern taste 
strong enough to prevail over the canonical vanity 
which blocks up the middle of every Cathedral with 
the clumsy and absurd inclosure of the choir, it 
would be difficult to imagine a more striking view 
than that which our Church presents on Holy 



248 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



Thursday. — In one respect, and that a most import- 
ant one, it has the advantage over Saint Peters at 
Rome. The scene of filth and irreverence which, 
according to travellers, sometimes disgusts the eye 
and revolts the mind at the Church of the Vatican 
— those crowds of peasants and beggars, eating, 
drinking, and sleeping, on Christmas eve, within the 
precincts of the temple ; are not to be seen at Seville. 
Our Church, though almost thronged day and night 
on the principal festivals, is not profaned by any 
external mark of indevotion. The strictest watch 
is kept by members of the chapter appointed for 
that purpose, who, attended by their vergers, go 
their rounds for the preservation of order. The 
exclusion of every kind of seats from the Church, 
though rather inconvenient for the people, prevents 
its being made a lounging-place ; and, besides al- 
lowing the beautiful marble pavement to appear 
unbroken, avoids that dismal look of an empty 
theatre, which benches or pews give to churches 
in the intervals of divine service. 

Early on Palm-Sunday the melancholy sound of 
the Passion-bell announces the beginning of the 
solemnities for which the fast of Lent is intended 
to prepare the mind. This bell is one of the largest 
which are made to revolve upon pivots. It is 
moved by means of two long ropes, which, by 
swinging the bell into a circular motion, twine 
gently at first, round the massive arms of a cross, 
of which the bell forms the foot, and the head its 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



249 



counterpoise. Six men then draw back the ropes 
till the enormous machine conceives a sufficient 
impetus to coil them in an opposite direction ; and 
thus alternately, as long as ringing is required. To 
give this bell a tone appropriate to the sombre cha- 
racter of the season, it has been cast with several 
large holes disposed in a circle round the top — a 
contrivance which, without diminishing the vibra- 
tion of the metal, prevents the distinct formation of 
any musical note, and converts the sound into a 
dismal clangour. 

The chapter, consisting of about eighty resident 
members, in their choral robes of black silk with 
long trains and hoods, preceded by the inferior mi- 
nisters, by thirty clergymen, in surplices, whose 
deep bass voices perform the plain or Ambrosian 
chaunt, and by the band of wind-instruments and 
singers, who execute the more artificial strains of 
modern or counterpoint music ; move in a long pro- 
cession round the farthest aisles, each holding a 
branch of the oriental or date palm, which, over- 
topping the heads of the assembled multitude, nod 
gracefully, and bend into elegant curves at every 
step of the bearers. For this purpose, a number of 
palm-trees are kept with their branches tied up to- 
gether, that, by the want of light, the more tender 
shoots may preserve a delicate yellow tinge. The 
ceremony of blessing these branches is solemnly 
performed by the officiating priest, previously to 
the procession ; after which they are sent by the 



250 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



clergy to their friends, who tie them to the iron 
bars of the balconies, to be, as they believe, a pro- 
tection against lightning. 

At the long church-service for this day, the 
organ is silent, the voices being supported by 
hautboys and bassoons. All the altars are covered 
with purple or grey curtains. The holy vestments, 
during this week, are of the first-mentioned colour, 
except on Friday, when it is changed for black. 
The four accounts of our Saviours passion appointed 
as gospels for this day, Wednesday, Thursday, and 
Friday, are dramatized in the following manner. 
Outside of the gilt-iron railing, which incloses the 
presbytery, are two large pulpits of the same ma- 
terials, from one of which, at the daily high-mass, 
the subdeacon ch aunts the epistle, as the deacon 
does the gospel from the other. A moveable plat- 
form with a desk, is placed between the pulpits on 
the Passion-days ; and three priests or deacons, in 
aides (the white vestment, over which the dalmatic 
is worn by the latter, and the chasuble by the for- 
mer) appear on these elevated posts, at the time 
when the gospel should be said. These officiating 
ministers are chosen among the singers in holy 
orders ; one a bass, another a tenor, and the third a 
counter-tenor. The tenor chaunts the narrative, 
without changing from the key note, and makes a 
pause whenever he comes to the words of the inter- 
locutors mentioned by the Evangelist. In those 
passages the words of our Saviour are sung by the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



251 



bass, in a solemn strain. The counter-tenor, in a 
more florid style, personates the inferior characters, 
such as Peter, the Maid, and Pontius Pilate. The 
cries of the priests and the multitude, are imi- 
tated by the band of musicians within the choir. 

PASSION-WEDNESDAY. 

The mass begins within a white veil, which con- 
ceals the officiating priest and ministers, and the 
service proceeds in this manner till the words 
" the veil of the temple was rent in twain" are 
chaunted. At this moment the veil disappears, as 
if by enchantment, and the ears of the congregation 
are stunned with the noise of concealed fire- works, 
which are meant to imitate an earthquake. 

The evening service named Tinieblas (darkness) 
is performed this day after sunset. The cathedral, 
on this occasion, exhibits the most solemn and im- 
pressive aspect. The high altar, concealed be- 
hind dark grey curtains which fall from the height 
of the cornices, is dimly lighted by six yellow-wax 
candles, while the gloom of the whole temple is 
broken in large masses by wax torches, severally 
fixed on each pillar of the centre aisle, at about 
one-third of its length from the ground. An ele- 
gant candlestick of brass, from fifteen to twenty 
feet high, is placed, this and the following evening, 
between the choir and the altar, holding: thirteen 
candles, twelve of yellow, and one of bleached wax, 
distributed on the two sides of the triangle which 



252 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



terminates the machine. Each candle stands by a 
brass figure of one of the apostles. The white 
candle occupying the apex, is allotted to the Virgin 
Mary. At the conclusion of each of the twelve 
psalms appointed for the service, one of the yellow 
candles is extinguished, till, the white taper burn- 
ing alone, it is taken down and concealed behind 
the altar. Immediately after the ceremony, the 
Miserere > as we call the fifty-first psalm, set, every 
other year, to a new strain of music, is sung in a 
grand style. This performance lasts neither more 
nor less than one hour. At the conclusion of the 
last verse the clergy break up abruptly without 
the usual blessing, making a thundering noise by 
clapping their moveable seats against the frame of 
the stalls, or knocking their ponderous breviaries 
against the boards, as the Rubric directs. 



THURSDAY IN THE PASSION WEEK. 



The ceremonies of the high mass (the only one 
which is publicly performed on this and the next 
day) being especially intended as a remembrance 
of the last supper, are, very appropriatelv, of a 
mixed character — a splendid commemoration which 
leads the mind from gratitude to sorrow. The ser- 
vice, as it proceeds, rapidly assumes the deepest 
hues of melancholy. The bells, which were join- 
ing in one joyous peal from every steeple, cease at 
once, producing a peculiar heavy stillness, which 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



253 



none can conceive but those who have lived in a 
populous Spanish town, long enough to lose the 
conscious sense of that perpetual tinkling which 
agitates the ear during the day, and great part of 
the night. 

A host, consecrated at the mass, is carried with 
great solemnity to a temporary structure called 
the Monument^ erected in every church with 
more or less splendour, according to the wealth of 
the establishment. There it is deposited in a silver 
urn, generally shaped like a sepulchre, the key of 
which, hanging from a gold chain, is committed 
by the priest to the care of one of the most respect- 
able inhabitants of the parish, who wears it round 
his neck as a badge of honour, till the next morn- 
ing. The key of the Cathedral Monument is en- 
trusted to the archbishop, if present, or to the dean 
in his absence. 

The striking effect of the last-mentioned struc- 
ture is not easily conceived. It fills up the space 
between four arches of the nave, rising in five 
bodies to the roof of the temple. The columns of 
the two lower tiers, which, like the rest of the 
monument, imitate white marble filletted with 
gold, are hollow, allowing the numerous at- 
tendants who take care of the lights that cover it 
from the ground to the very top, to do their duty 
during four-and-twenty hours, without any dis- 
turbance or unseemly bustle. More than three 



254 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



thousand pounds of wax, besides one hundred and 
sixty silver lamps, are employed in the illumi- 
nation. 

The gold casket set with jewels, which contains 
the host, lies deposited in an elegant temple of 
massive silver, weighing five hundred and ten 
marks, which is seen through a blaze of light, on 
the pediment of the monument. Two members of 
the chapter in their choral robes, and six inferior 
priests in surplices, attend on their knees before 
the shrine, till they are relieved by an equal num- 
ber of the same classes, at the end of every hour. 
This act of adoration is performed without inter- 
ruption from the moment of depositing the host in 
the casket till that of taking it out the next morn- 
ing. The cathedral, as well as many others of the 
wealthiest churches, is kept open and illuminated 
the whole night. 

One of the public sights of the town, on this 
day, is the splendid cold dinner which the arch- 
bishop gives to twelve paupers, in commemoration 
of the Apostles. The dinner is to be seen laid out 
on tables, filling up two large rooms in the palace. 
The twelve guests are completely clothed at the 
expense of their host; and having partaken of a 
more homely dinner in the kitchen, are furnished 
with large baskets to take away the splendid com- 
mons allotted to each in separate dishes, which 
they sell to the gourmands of the town. Each, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



2.55 



besides, is allowed to dispose of his napkin, cu- 
riously made up into the figure of some bird or 
quadruped, which people buy both as ornaments to 
their china cupboards, and as specimens of the 
perfection to which some of our poorer nuns have 
carried the art of plaiting. 

At two in the afternoon the archbishop, attended 
by his chapter, repairs to the Cathedral, where he 
performs the ceremony, which, from the notion of 
its being literally enjoined by our Saviour, is called 
the Mandatum. The twelve paupers are seated on 
a platform erected before the high altar ; and the 
prelate, stripped of his silk robes, and kneeling 
successively before each, washes their feet in a 
large silver bason. 

About this time the processions, known by the 
name of Cqfradtas, (Confraternities) begin to move 
out of the different churches to which they are at- 
tached. The head of the police appoints the hour 
when each of these pageants is to appear in the 
square, where stand the Town Hall, and the Audi- 
encia or Court of Justice. From thence their route 
to the Cathedral, and out of it, to a certain point, 
is the same for all. These streets are lined by two 
rows of spectators of the lower classes, the windows, 
being occupied by those of a higher rank. An 
order is previously published by the town-crier, 
directing the inhabitants to decorate their windows, 
which they do by hanging out the showy silk and 
chintz counterpanes of their beds. The proces- 
sions themselves, except one which enjoys the pri- 



256 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



vilege of parading the town in the dead of nights 
have little to attract the eye or affect the imagina- 
tion. Their chief object is to convey groups of 
figures, as large as life, representing different scenes 
of our Saviour s passion. 

There is something remarkable in the established 
and characteristic marks of some figures. The 
Jews are distinguished by long aquiline noses. 
Saint Peter is completely bald. The dress of the 
Apostle John is green, and that of Judas Iscariot 
yellow ; and so intimately associated is this circum- 
stance with the idea of the traitor, that it has 
brought that colour into universal discredit. It is, 
probably, from this circumstance (though yellow 
may have been allotted to Judas from some more 
ancient prejudice,) that the Inquisition has adopted 
it for the Sanbenito, or coat of infamy, which per- 
sons convicted of heresy are compelled to wear. 
The red hair of Judas, like Peter s baldness, seems 
to be agreed upon by all the painters and sculptors 
of Europe. Judas hair is a usual name in Spain ; 
and a similar appellation, it should seem, was used 
in England in Shakspeare's time. " His hair," says 
Rosalind, in As you like it, " is of the dissembling 
colour to which Celia answers — u Something 
browner than Judas's." 

The midnight procession derives considerable 
effect from the stillness of the hour, and the dress 
of the attendants on the sacred image. None are 
admitted to this religious act but the members of 
that fraternity ; generally young men of fashion. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



25/ 



They all appear in a black tunic, with a broad belt 
so contrived as to give the idea of a long rope tied 
tight round the body ; a method of penance com- 
monly practised in former-times. The face is co- 
vered with a long black veil, falling from a sugar- 
loaf cap three feet high. Thus arrayed, the nominal 
penitents advance, with silent and measured steps, 
in two lines, dragging a train six feet long, and 
holding aloft a wax-candle of twelve pounds, which 
they rest upon the hip-bone, holding it obliquely 
towards the vacant space between them. The 
veils, being of the same stuff with the cap and tunic, 
would absolutely impede the sight but for two small 
holes, through which the eyes are seen to gleam, 
adding no small effect to the dismal appearance of 
such strange figures. The pleasure of appearing 
in a disguise, in a country where masquerades are 
not tolerated by the Government, is a great in- 
ducement to our young men for subscribing to this 
religious association. The disguise, it is true, does 
not in the least relax the rules of strict decorum 
which the ceremony requires ; yet the mock peni- 
tents think themselves repaid for the fatigue and 
trouble of the night by the fresh impression which 
they expect to make on the already won hearts of 
their mistresses, who, by preconcerted signals, are 
enabled to distinguish their lovers, in spite of the 
veils and the uniformity of the dresses. 

It is scarcely forty years since the disgusting ex- 
hibition of people streaming in their own blood, 

s 



258 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



was discontinued by an order of the Government. 
These penitents were generally from among the 
most debauched and abandoned of the lower classes. 
They appeared in white linen petticoats, pointed 
white caps and veils, and a jacket of the same 
colour, which exposed the naked shoulders to 
view. Having, previously to their joining the pro- 
cession, been scarified on the back, they beat them- 
selves with a cat-o'-nine-tails, making the blood 
run down to the skirts of their garment. It may 
be easily conceived that religion had no share in 
these voluntary inflictions. There was a notion 
afloat that this act of penance had an excellent 
effect on the constitution ; and while vanity was 
concerned in the applause which the most bloody 
flagellation obtained from the vulgar, a still stronger 
passion looked forward to the irresistible impression 
it produced on the strapping belles of the lower 
ranks. 



GOOD FRIDAY. 

The crowds of people who spent the evening 
and part of the night of Thursday in visiting the 
numerous churches where the host is entombed, 
are still seen, though greatly thinned, performing 
this religious ceremony, till the beginning of service 
at nine. This is, perhaps, the most impressive of 
any used by the Church of Rome. The altars, 
which, at the end of yesterday's mass, were pub- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 259 

licly and solemnly stripped of their cloths and rich 
table-hangings by the hands of the priest, appear 
in the same state of distressed negligence. No 
musical sound is heard, except the deep-toned 
voices of the psalm, or plain chaunt singers. After 
a few preparatory prayers, and the dramatized his- 
tory of the Passion, already described, the officiating 
priest, (the archbishop at the cathedral) in a plain 
albe or white tunic, takes up a wooden cross six or 
seven feet high, which, like all other crosses, has 
for the last two weeks of Lent been covered with 
a purple veil ; and standing towards the people, 
before the middle of the altar, gradually uncovers 
the sacred emblem, which both the clergy and laity 
worship upon their knees. The prelate is then 
unshod by the assistant ministers, and taking the 
cross upon his right shoulder, as our Saviour is re- 
presented by painters on his way to Calvary, walks 
alone from the altar to the entrance of the presby- 
tery or chancel, and lays his burden upon two 
cushions. After this, he moves back some steps, 
and approaching the cross with three prostrations, 
kisses it, and drops an oblation of a piece of money, 
into a silver dish. The whole chapter, having gone 
through the same ceremony, form themselves in 
two lines, and repair to the monument, from whence 
the officiating priest conveys the deposited host to 
the altar, where he communicates upon it without 
consecrating any wine. Here the service termi- 
nates abruptly ; all candles and lamps are extin- 

s 2 



260 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



guished ; and the tabernacle, which throughout the 
year contains the sacred wafers, being left open, 
every object bespeaks the desolate and widowed 
state of the church, from the death of the Saviour 
to his resurrection. 

The ceremonies of Good-Friday being short and 
performed at an early hour, both the gay and the 
devout would be at a loss how to spend the remain- 
der of the day but for the grotesque Passion Ser- 
mons of the suburbs and neighbouring villages ; 
and the more solemn performance known by the 
name of Tres Horas — three hours. 

The practice of continuing in meditation from 
twelve to three o'clock of this day — the time which 
our Saviour is supposed to have hung on the cross 
— was introduced by the Spanish Jesuits, and par- 
takes of the impressive character which the mem- 
bers of that order had the art to impart to the reli- 
gious practices by which they cherished the devo- 
tional spirit of the people. The church where the 
three hours are kept, is generally hung in black, 
and made impervious to day-light. A large cru- 
cifix is seen on the high altar, under a black canopy, 
with six unbleached wax-candles, which cast a 
sombre glimmering on the rest of the church. The 
females of all ranks occupy, as usual, the centre of 
the nave, squatting or kneeling on the matted 
ground, and adding to the dismal appearance of 
the scene, by the colour of their veils and dresses. 
Just as the clock strikes twelve, a priest in his 



lETTERS FROM SPAIN. 2C1 

cloak and cassock ascends the pulpit, and delivers a 
preparatory address of his own composition. He 
then reads the printed Meditation on the Seven 
Words, or Sentences spoken by Jesus on the cross, 
allotting to each such a portion of time as that, 
with the interludes of music which follow each of 
the readings, the whole may not exceed three 
hours. The music is generally good and appro- 
priate, and, if a sufficient band can be collected, 
well repays to an amateur the inconvenience of a 
crowded church, where, from the want of seats, 
the male part of the congregation are obliged either 
to stand or kneel. It is, in fact, one of the best 
works of Haydn, composed, a short time ago, for 
some gentlemen of Cadiz, who shewed both their 
taste and liberality in thus procuring this master- 
piece of harmony for the use of their country. It 
has been lately published in Germany, under the 
title of " Sette Parole." 

Every part of the performance is so managed 
that the clock strikes three about the end of the 
meditation, on the words It is finished. — The de- 
scription of the expiring Saviour, powerfully drawn 
by the original writer of the Tres Uoras, can 
hardly fail to strike the imagination when listened 
to under the influence of such music and scenery ; 
and when, at the first stroke of the clock, the priest 
rises from his seat, and in a loud and impassioned 
voice, announces the consummation of the awful 
and mysterious sacrifice, on whose painful and 



262 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



bloody progress the mind has been dwelling so 
long ; few hearts can repel the impi ession, and still 
fewer eyes can conceal it. Tears bathe every cheek, 
and sobs heave every female bosom. — After a part- 
ing address from the pulpit, the ceremony concludes 
with a piece of music, where the powers of the 
great composer are magnificently displayed in the 
imitation of the disorder and agitation of nature 
which the Evangelists relate. 

The Passion Sermons for the populace might be 
taken for a parody of the Three Hours. They are 
generally delivered, in the open air, by friars of the 
Mendicant Orders, in those parts of the city and 
suburbs which are chiefly, if not exclusively, inha- 
bited by the lower classes. Such gay young men, 
however, as do not scruple to relieve the dullness of 
Good-Friday with a ride, and feel no danger of ex- 
posing themselves by any unseasonable laughter, 
indulge not unfrequently in the frolic of attending 
one of the most complete and perfect sermons of 
this kind, at the neighbouring village of Castilleja. 

A moveable pulpit is placed before the church 
door, from which a friar, possessed of a stentorian 
voice, delivers an improved history of the Passion, 
such as was revealed to Saint Bridget, a Franciscan 
nun, who, from the dictation of the Virgin Mary, 
has left us a most minute and circumstantial ac- 
count of the life and death of Christ and his 
mother. This yearly narrative, however, would 
have lost most of its interest but for the scenic 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



2G3 



illustrations which keep up the expectation and 
rivet the attention of the audience. It was for- 
merly the custom to introduce a living Saint Peter 
— a character which belonged by a natural and in- 
alienable right to the baldest head in the village — 
who acted the Apostle's denial, swearing by Christ, 
he did not know r the man. This edifying part 
of the performance is omitted at Castilleja ; though 
a practised performer crows with such a shrill and 
natural note as must be answered with a challenge 
by every cock of spirit in the neighbourhood. The 
flourish of a trumpet announces, in the sequel, the 
publication of the sentence passed by the Roman 
governor ; and the town crier delivers it with legal 
precision, in the manner it is practised in Spain, 
before an execution. Hardly has the last word 
been uttered, when the preacher, in a frantic pas- 
sion, gives the crier the lie direct, cursing the tongue 
that has uttered such blasphemies.^ He then in- 
vites an angel to contradict both Pilate and the 
Jews : when, obedient to the orator's desire, a boy 
gaudily dressed, and furnished with a pair of gilt 
pasteboard wings, appears at the window, and pro- 
claims the true verdict of Heaven. Sometimes in 
the course of the preacher's narrative, an image of 
the Virgin Mary is made to meet that of Christ, on 
his way to Calvary, both taking an affectionate leave 
in the street. The appearance, however, of the 

* " Calla, maldita lengua" the usual exclamation which 
stops the crier, has become a jocular expression in Andalusia. 



264 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Virgin bearing a handkerchief to collect a sum for 
her son's burial, is never omitted, both because it 
melts the whole female audience into tears, and 
because it produces a good collection for the con- 
vent. The whole is closed by the Descendimiento, 
or unnailing a crucifix as large as life from the cross ; 
an operation performed by two friars, who, in the 
character of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, 
are seen with ladders and carpenters' tools, letting 
down the jointed figure, to be placed on a bier and 
carried into the church in the form of a funeral. 

I have carefully glided over such parts of this 
absurd performance as would shock many an Eng- 
lish reader even in narrative. Yet such is the 
strange mixture of superstition and profaneness in 
the people for whose gratification these scenes are 
exhibited, that though any attempt to expose the 
indecency of these shows would rouse their zeal 
" to the knife," I cannot venture to translate the 
jokes and sallies of wit that are frequently heard 
among the Spanish peasantry upon these sacred 
topics. 

SATURDAY BEFORE EASTER. 

I have not been able to ascertain the reason why 
the Roman Catholic celebrate the resurrection this 
morning, with an anticipation of nearly four and 
twenty hours, and yet continue the fast till mid- 
night or the beginning of Sunday. This practice 
is, I believe, of high antiquity. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



265 



The service begins this morning without either 
the sound of bells or of musical instruments. The 
Paschal Candle is seen by the north-side of the 
altar. But, before I mention the size of that used 
at our cathedral, I must protest against all charges 
of exaggeration. It is, in fact, a pillar of wax, 
nine yards in height, and thick in proportion, 
standing on a regular marble pedestal. It weighs 
eighty arrobas, or two thousand pounds, of twelve 
ounces. This candle is cast and painted new, every 
year ; the old one being broken to pieces on the 
Saturday preceding Whitsunday, the day when 
part of it is used for the consecration of the bap- 
tismal font. The sacred torch is lighted with the 
new five, which this morning the priest strikes out 
of a flint, and burns during service till Ascension- 
day. A chorister in his surplice climbs up a gilt- 
iron rod, furnished with steps like a flag-staff, and 
having the top railed in, so as to admit of a seat 
on a level with the end of the candle. From this 
crows nest, the young man lights up and trims the 
wax pillar, drawing off the melted wax with a large 
iron ladle. 

High mass begins this day behind the great veil, 
which for the two last weeks in Lent covers the 
altar. After some preparatory prayers, the priest 
strikes up the hymn Gloria in excelsis Deo. At this 
moment the veil flies off, the explosion of fireworks 
in the upper galleries reverberates in a thousand 
echoes from the vaults of the church, and the four- 



266 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



and-twenty large bells of its tower, awake, with 
their discordant though gladdening sounds, those 
of the one hundred and forty-six steeples which 
this religious town boasts of. A brisk firing of 
musketry, accompanied by the howling of the in- 
numerable dogs, which, unclaimed by any master, 
live and multiply in our streets, adds strength and 
variety to this universal din. The firing is directed 
against several stuffed figures, not unlike the Guy 
Fawkes of the fifth of November ; which are seen 
hanging by the neck on a rope, extended across the 
least frequented streets. It is then that the pious 
rage of the people of Seville is vented against the 
archtraitor Judas, whom they annually hang, shoot, 
draw and quarter in effigy. 

The church service ends in a procession about 
the aisles. The priest bears the host in his hands, 
visible through glass, as a picture within a medal- 
lion. The sudden change from the gloomy ap- 
pearance of the church and its ministers, to the 
simple and joyous character of this procession, the 
very name of Pasqua Florida, the flowery Passover, 
and, more than the name, the flowers themselves, 
which well-dressed children, mixed with the censer- 
bearers, scatter on the ground, crowd the mind 
and heart with the ideas, hopes, and feelings of 
renovated life, and give to this ceremony, even for 
those who disbelieve the personal presence in the 
host, of a Deity triumphant over death ; a character 
of inexpressible tenderness. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



267 



MAY CROSS. 

The rural custom of electing a May Queen among 
the country belles is, I understand, still practised 
in some parts of Spain. The name of Mala, given 
to the handsomest lass of the village, who, de- 
corated with garlands of flowers, leads the dances 
in which the young people spend the day, shews 
how little that ceremony has varied since the time 
of the Romans. The villagers, in other provinces, 
declare their love by planting, during the preceding 
night, a large bough or a sapling, decked with 
flowers, before the doors of their sweethearts. 

As most of our ancient church festivals were 
contrived as substitutes for the Pagan rites, which 
the Christian priesthood could not otherwise era- 
dicate, we still have some remnants of the sane 
tified May-pole in the little crosses, which the 
children ornament with flowers, and place upon 
tables, holding as many lighted tapers as, from 
the contributions of their friends, they can afford 
to buy. 

I have heard that the children at Cambridge 
dress up a figure called the May-lady, and setting 
it upon a table, beg money of the passengers. The 
difference between this and the analogous Spanish 
custom arose, in all probability, from the respec- 
tive prevalence in either country of the May-pole, 
or the Maia. A figure of the Virgin, which the 
Reformation has reduced to a nameless as well as 



268 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



shapeless puppet, took place of the latter, while 
the cross was employed to banish the former. I 
am inclined to believe that the illuminated grottos 
of oyster-shells, for which the London children beg 
about the streets, are the representatives of some 
Catholic emblem, which had its day as a subs- 
titute for a more classical idol. I was struck in 
London with the similarity of the plea which the 
children of both countries urge in order to obtain 
a halfpenny. The u it is but once a year, sir !" 
often reminded me of the 

La Cruz de Mayo 
que no come ni bebe 
en todo el ano. 

The Cross of May 
Remember pray, 

Which fasts a year and feasts a day. 
CORPUS CHRISTI. 

This is the only day in the year when the con- 
secrated Host is exposed, about the streets, to the 
gaze of the adoring multitude. The triumphal 
character of the procession which issues forth from 
the principal church of every town of note in the 
kingdom, and a certain dash of bitter and threaten- 
ing zeal which still lies disguised under the ardent 
and boundless devotion displayed on this festival, 
shew but too clearly the spirit of defiance which 
suggested it in the heat of the controversies upon 
the real presence. It is within my memory that 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



2G9 



the taste for dignity and decorum which this Me- 
tropolitan Church has ever evinced in the per- 
formance of religious worship, put an end to the 
boisterous and unbecoming appendages which an 
inveterate custom had annexed to this pageant. 

At a short distance in front of the procession 
appeared a group of seven gigantic figures, male 
and female, whose dresses, contrived by the most 
skilful tailors and milliners of the town, regulated 
the fashion at Seville for the ensuing season. A 
strong man being concealed under each of the 
giants and giantesses, the gaping multitude were 
amused at certain intervals with a very clumsy 
dance, performed by the figures, to the sound of 
the pipe and tabor. Next to the Brobdignag 
dancers, and taking precedence of all, there fol- 
lowed, on a moveable stage, the figure of a Hydra 
encircling a castle, from which, to the great delight 
of all the children of Seville, a puppet not unlike 
Punch, dressed up in a scarlet jacket trimmed with 
morrice-bells, used often to start up ; and having 
performed a kind of wild dance, vanished again 
from view into the body of the monster. The 
whole of this compound figure bore the name of 
Tarasca, a word of which I do not know either 
the meaning or derivation. That these figures 
were allegorical no one can doubt who has any 
knowledge of the pageants of the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries. It would be difficult, how- 



270 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



ever, without the help of an obscure tradition, to 
guess that the giants in perriwigs and swords, and 
their fair partners in caps and petticoats, were em- 
blems of the seven deadly sins. The Hydra, it 
should seem, represented Heresy, guarding the 
castle of Schism, where Folly, symbolized by the 
strange figure in scarlet, displayed her supreme 
command. This band of monsters was supposed 
to be flying in confusion before the triumphant 
sacrament. 

Mixed with the body of the procession, there 
appeared three sets of dancers ; the Valencianos, 
or natives of the kingdom of Valencia, who, in 
their national costume of loose waistcoats, puffed 
linen sleeves, bound at the wrists and elbows with 
ribbons of various colours, and broad white trow- 
sers reaching only to the knees, performed a 
lively dance, mingling their steps with feats of 
surprising agility : after these followed the sword- 
dancers in the old martial fashion of the country : 
and last of all, the performers of an antiquated 
Spanish dance — I believe the Chacona, dressed in 
the national garb of the sixteenth century. 

A dance of the last-mentioned description, and 
in a similar costume, is still performed before the 
high altar in the presence of the chapter, at the 
conclusion of the service on this day and the 
following se'nnight. The dancers are boys of be 
tween ten and fourteen, who, under the name of 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



271 



Seizes,* are maintained at the college which the 
Cathedral supports for the education of the acolytes, 
or inferior ministers. These boys, accompanied by 
a full orchestra, sing a lyric composition in Spanish, 
which, like the Greek chorusses, consists of two 
or three systems of metres, to which the dancers 
move solemnly, going through a variety of figures 
in their natural step, till, ranged at the conclusion 
of the song, in two lines facing each other as at 
the outset, they end with a gentle caper, rattling 
the castanets, which hitherto lay silent and con- 
cealed in their hands. That this grotesque per- 
formance should be allowed to continue, is, I be- 
lieve, owing to the pride which this chapter take 
in the privilege, granted by the Pope to the dancers, 
of wearing their hats within view of the conse- 
crated host — a liberty which the King himself can- 
not take, and which, if I am not misled by report, 
no one besides can boast of, except the Dukes of 
Altamira, who, upon certain occasions, clap on 
their hat, at the elevation of the host, and draw the 
sword, as if shewing their readiness to give a con- 
clusive answer to any argument against transub- 
stantiation. 

The Corpus Christi procession begins to move 
out of the cathedral exactly at nine in the morn- 
ing. It consists in the first place of the forty 

* This name is, as far as I know, peculiar to Seville. The 
similarity of its sound and that of sizars used at Cambridge, 
seems to denote a common origin in the two words. 



272 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



communities of friars who have convents in this 
town. They follow one another in two lines, ac- 
cording to the established order of precedence. 
The strangeness and variety of their dresses, no 
less than their collective numbers, would greatly 
strike any one but a Spaniard, to whom such 
objects are perfectly familiar. — Next appears the 
long train of relics belonging to the Cathedral, 
placed each by itself on a small stage moved by 
one or more men concealed under the rich drapery 
which hangs on its sides to the ground. Vases of 
gold and silver, of different shapes and sizes, con- 
tain the various portions of the inestimable treasure 
whereof the following is an accurate catalogue : 

A tooth of Saint Christopher. 

An agate cup used at Mass by Pope Saint Clement, the 
immediate successor of Saint Peter. 
An arm of Saint Bartholomew. 
A head of one of eleven thousand virgins. 
Part of Saint Peter's body. 
Ditto of Saint Lawrence. 
Ditto of Saint Blaise. 

The bones of the Saints Servandus and Germanus. 
Ditto of Saint Florentius. 

The Alphonsine tables, left to the Cathedral by King 
Alphonso the Wise, containing three hundred relics. 
A silver bust of Saint Leander, with his bones. 
A thorn from our Saviour's crown. 
A fragment of the true cross. 

Last of all appears the body of prebendaries and 
canons, attended by their inferior ministers. Such, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



273 



however, is the length of the procession, and the 
slow and solemn pace at which it proceeds, that, 
without a break in the lines, it takes a whole hour 
to leave the church. The streets, besides being 
hung up with more taste than for the processions of 
the Passion Week, are shaded all the way with a 
thick awning, and the pavement is strewed with 
rushes. An article of the military code of Spain 
obliges whatever troops are quartered in a town 
where this procession takes place, to follow it under 
arms ; and if sufficient in number, to line the 
streets through which it is to pass. 

Under all these circumstances, the first appear- 
ance of the host in the streets is exceedingly 
imposing. Encircled by jewels of the greatest 
brilliancy, surrounded by lighted tapers and en- 
throned on the massive, yet elegant temple of 
silver already mentioned when describing the Mo- 
nument* no sooner has it moved to the door of the 
church than the bells announce its presence with a 
deafening sound, the bands of military music mix 
their animating notes with the solemn hymns of 
the singers, clouds of incense rise before the moving 
shrine, and the ear is thrilled by the loud voice of 
command, and the clash of the arms which the 
kneeling soldiers strike down to the ground. When 
the concealed bearers of the shrine present it at 
the top of the long street where the route commences, 
the multitudes which crowd both the pavement and 

* See page 253. f See Letter II. p. 34. 

T 



274 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



windows, fall prostrate in profound adoration, with- 
out venturing to rise up till the object of their awe 
is out of sight. Flowers are often scattered from 
the windows, and the most beautiful nosegays adorn 
the platform of the moveable stage. 

Close behind the host follows the archbishop, 
surrounded by his ecclesiastical retinue. One of 
his chaplains carries a large double cross of silver, 
indicative of metropolitan dignity. The train of 
the purple mantle is supported by another clergy- 
man. These, like the rest of the prelate's attendants 
and pages, are young men of family, who disdain 
not this kind of service, in the expectation of high 
church preferment. But what gives all this state 
the most unexpected finish is an inferior minister 
in his surplice bearing a circular fan of richly em- 
broidered silk about two feet in diameter, and at- 
tached to a silver rod six feet in length. At a con- 
venient distance from the archbishop this fan is con- 
stantly waved, whenever during the summer months 
he attends the cathedral service, thus relieving him 
from the oppressive effects of his robes under the 
burning sun of Andalusia. This custom is, I believe, 
peculiar to Seville. 

saint John's eve. 

Feelings far removed from those of devotion 
prevail in the celebration of the Baptist's festival. 
Whether it is the inviting temperature of a mid- 
summer night, or some ancient custom connected 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 2/5 

with the present evening, " Saint John," says the 
Spanish proverb, " sets every girl a gadding." The 
public walks are crowded after sunset, and the ex- 
clusive amusement of this night, flirtation, or in the 
Andalusian phrase, pelar la Pava, (plucking the 
hen-turkey) begins as soon as the star -light of a 
summer sky, unbroken by the partial glare of 
lamps, enables the different groups to mix with a 
liberty approaching that enjoyed in a masquerade. 
Nothing in this kind of amusement posseses more 
zest than the chat through the iron bars of the 
lower windows, which begins about midnight. 
Young ladies, who can compose their mamas to 
sleep at a convenient hour, glide unperceived to the 
lower part of the house, and sitting on the window- 
sill, behind the lattice-work, which is used in this 
country instead of blinds, wait, in the true spirit of 
adventure, (if not pre-engaged to a dull, common- 
place matrimonial prelude,) for the chance sparks, 
who, mostly in disguise, walk the streets from 
twelve till dawn. Such, however, as the mere love 
of mirth induces to pass the night at the windows, 
generally engage another female companion, a sister, 
a friend, and often a favourite maid, to take a share 
in the conversation, and by a change of characters 
to puzzle their out-of-doors visiters. These, too, 
when not seriously engaged, walk about in parties, 
each assuming such a character as they consider 
themselves most able to support. One pretends to 

t 2 



276 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



be a farmer just arrived from the country, another 
a poor mechanic, this a foreigner speaking broken 
Spanish, that a Galkgo, making love in the still less 
intelligible dialect of his province. The gentlemen 
must come provided with no less a stock of sweet- 
meats (which from the circumstance of being folded 
each separately in a piece of paper, are called Pape- 
lillos) than of lively small talk and wit. A defi- 
ciency in the latter is unpardonable ; so that a bore, 
or Majadero* if not ready to quit the post when 
bidden, is soon left to contemplate the out-side of 
the window-shutters. The habitual distance at 
which the lower classes are kept from those above 
them, prevents any disagreeable meddling on their 
part ; and the ladies who indulge in these frolics, 
feel perfectly safe from intrusion and impertinence. 

The sauntering about the fields, practised by the 
populace of Madrid, on the same night, is there 
called " Coger la Verbena" gathering Vervain ; an 
appellation evidently derived from an ancient super- 
stition which attributed preternatural powers to 
that plant when gathered at twelve o'clock on St. 
John s Eve. The nocturnal rambles of the present 
times, much as they might alarm the guardians of 
public morals, if such an office existed among us, 
need not give any uneasiness on the score of witch- 
craft to the Reverend Inquisitors. 

* A word derived from the verb Majar, to beat in a mortar. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



277 



SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. 

The commemoration of this Apostle takes place 
on the 24th of August. It is not, however, to 
record any external circumstance connected with 
this church festival — which, in fact, is scarcely 
distinguished by any peculiar solemnity — that I 
take notice of it, but for a private superstitious 
practice which strikes me as a most curious mo- 
dification of one used by the pious housewives in 
the days of Augustus. 

Intermittent fevers, especially the Tertian and 
Quartan, are very common in most parts of An- 
dalusia. The season when they chiefly attack the 
inhabitants, is summer ; and whether the un- 
bounded use, which all sorts of people, but par- 
ticularly the poor, make of grapes and melons, 
contributes to the production of the disease, or 
whether the mere coincidence of the two facts is, 
as usual, taken for cause and effect ; it is an es- 
tablished opinion in this part of the country that, 
if fruit is not the original source of the ague, an 
abstinence from that kind of food is indispensable 
to avoid a relapse into that treacherous complaint. 

That there should be a particular Saint, to su- 
perintend the medical department of curing the 
ague, is so perfectly consistent with the Catholic 
notions, that a deficiency on that point would more 
surprise me than to find a toe not under the in- 
fluence of some heavenly aspect in the Vox Stel- 
larum^ which was one of my wonders in England, 



278 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



That province, in fact, is allotted to Saint Bar- 
tholomew. Now, nine-pence is a sufficient induce- 
ment for any of our sons of Esculapius to mount 
his mule as well as his wig, and dose you with the 
most compound electuary he is master of ; but how 
to fee a supernatural doctor, would be a puzzling 
question, were it not that tradition teaches the 
method of propitiating every individual mentioned 
in the calendar. Each Saint has a peculiar fancy — 
from Saint Anthony of Padua, who will often delay 
the performance of a miracle till you plunge him 
into a well, or nail his print topsy-turvy upon the 
wall, to Saint Pasqual Bay Ion, who is readiest to 
attend such as accompany their petitions with 
some lively steps and a final caper. As to Saint 
Bartholomew, nothing will induce him to cure an 
ague but a vow to abstain, on the day of his fes- 
tival, from all food except bread and fruit — the 
very means which, but for his miraculous inter- 
ference, would, according to common opinion, 
cause either a return, or an aggravation of the 
complaint. 

Mark, now, the vow employed by the Roman 
matrons for the cure of intermittents. It is 
recorded by Horace, and thus translated by 
Francis :— 

" Her child beneath a quartan fever lies 
For full four months, when the fond mother cries, 
Sickness and health are thine, all-powerftil Jove ; 
Then, from my son this dire disease remove, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



279 



And when your priests thy solemn fast proclaim, 
Naked the boy shall stand in Tiber's stream. 
Should chance, or the physician's art, upraise 
Her infant from the desperate disease ; 
The frantic dame shall plunge her hapless boy, 
Bring back the fever, and the child destroy."* 

The existence of Heathen superstitions adapted 
to Christian worship is too common to excite sur- 
prise ; nor is it any similarity in the externals of 
the two practices I have just compared, that con- 
stitutes their analogy. My mind is struck alone by 
the unchangeable spirit of superstition, which, at- 
tributing in all ages and nations, our own passions 
and feelings to supernatural beings, endeavours to 
obtain their favour by flattering their vanity. Both 
the ancient Roman and modern Spanish vow for 
the cure of the ague, seem to set at defiance the 
supposed and most probable causes of the disease, 
from which the devotees seek deliverance ; as if to 
secure to the patron deities the undoubted and full 
honour of the miracle. 

* Jupiter, ingentes qui das adimisque dolores, 
(Mater ait pueri menses jam quinque cubantis), 
Frigida si puerum quartana reliqueiit, illo 
Mane, die quo tu indicis jejunia, nudus 
In Tiberi stabit. — Casus, medicusve levarit 
iEgrum ex precipiti ; mater delira necabit 
In gelida fixum ripa, febrimque reducet. 

Hon. Sat. L. II. 3.288. 



280 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



DETACHED PREJUDICES AND PRACTICES. 

Having mentioned the superstitious method used 
in this country for the cure of the ague, I wish to 
introduce a short account of some popular pre- 
judices more or less connected with the prevalent 
religious notions. I shall probably add a few facts 
under this head, for no better reason than that I 
do not know how to class them under any other. 

There is an allusion in Hudibras to an antiquated 
piece of gallantry which I believe may be illus- 
trated by a religious custom to which I was some- 
times subjected in my childhood. The passage 
runs thus : 

I'll carve your name on barks of trees 
With true love-knots and flourishes, .... 
Drink every letter orCt in stum, 
And make it brisk Champaigne become.* 

The latter compliment is paid by sick persons to 
the Virgin Mary, in the hope of recovering health 
through her intercession. An image is worshipped 
at one of the principal parish churches in this 
town, under the title of the Virgin of Health. 
The charm of this denomination draws numbers 
to the sanctuary, which, being in the centre of the 
wealthiest population, derives considerable splen- 
dour from their offerings. In exchange for these 
they often receive a sheet of printed paper contain- 
ing at regular intervals the words Salus infirmorum, 

* Hudibras, Part II. Canto I. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



281 



in very small type. In case of illness, one of the 
lines is cut off, and, being coiled into a small roll 
the patient swallows it in a glass of water. 

The room where a person lies dangerously ill, 
generally contains more relics and amulets than 
the chimney-piece of an invalid, under the care of 
a London apothecary, holds phials of all shapes 
and sizes. The friends of a lady near her confine- 
ment, vie with each other in procuring her every 
kind of supernatural assistance for the trying hour; 
when, strange to say, she is often dressed in the 
episcopal robes of some saint, which are supposed 
to act most effectually when in contact with the 
body of the distressed petitioner. But whatever 
patrons the ladies may choose to implore in those 
circumstances, there are two whose assistance, by 
means of relics, pictures, or the apparel of their 
images, is never dispensed with. The names of 
these invisible accoucheurs are Saint Raymimdus 
Nonnatus, and Saint Vincent Ferrer. That the 
former should be considered as peculiarly interested 
in such cases, having, as his addition implies, been 
extracted from the womb of his dead mother, is 
perfectly clear and natural. But, Ferrers sympathy 
requires a slight explanation. 

That saint—a native of Valencia, and a monk 
of the order of Saint Dominic, possessed the gift 
of miracles in such a degree, that he performed 
them almost unconsciously, and not unfrequently 
in a sort of frolic. Being applied to, on a certain 



282 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

occasion, by a young married lady, whom the idea 
of approaching maternity kept in a state of con- 
stant terror, the good-natured Saint desired her to 
dismiss her fears, as he was determined to take 
upon himself whatever inconvenience or trouble 
there might be in the case. Some weeks had 
elapsed, when the good Monk, who had forgotten 
his engagement, was heard in the dead of night 
roaring and screaming in a manner so unusual, and 
so little becoming a professional Saint, that he 
drew the whole community to his cell. Nothing, 
for a time, could relieve the mysterious sufferings, 
and though he passed the rest of the night as well 
as could be expected, the fear of a relapse would 
have kept his afflicted brethren in painful suspense, 
had not the grateful husband of the timid lady, who 
was the cause of the uproar, taken an early oppor- 
tunity to return thanks for the unconscious delivery 
of his consort. Saint Vincent, though according 
to tradition perfectly unwilling to stand a second 
time proxy for nervous ladies, is, from a very 
natural sympathy, constantly in readiness to act 
as the male Lucina of the Spanish matrons. 

FUNERALS OF INFANTS AND MAIDS. 

From the birth to the death of a child the pas- 
sage is often so easy that I shall make it an apology 
for the abruptness of the present transition. The 
moral accountableness of a human being, as I have 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



283 



observed before, does not, according to Catholic 
divines, begin till the seventh year ; consequently 
such as die without attaining that age, are, by the 
effect of their baptism, indubitably entitled to a 
place in heaven. The death of an infant is there- 
fore a matter of rejoicing to all but those in whose 
bosoms nature speaks too loud to be controlled by 
argument. The friends who call upon the pa- 
rents, contribute to aggravate their bitterness by 
wishing them joy for having increased the number 
of angels. The usual address on these occasions is 
Angelkos al Cielo ! Little Angels to Heaven — an 
unfeeling compliment, which never fails to draw 
a fresh gush of tears from the eyes of a mother. 
Every circumstance of the funeral is meant to force 
joy upon the mourners. The child, dressed in 
white garments, and crowned with a wreath of 
flowers, is followed by the officiating priest in silk 
robes of the same colour ; and the clergymen who 
attend him to the house from whence the funeral 
proceeds to the church, sing in joyful strains the 
psalm Laudate, pueri, Dominum, while the bells 
are heard ringing a lively peal. The coffin, with- 
out a lid, exposes to the view the little corpse 
covered with flowers, as four well-dressed children 
bear it, amidst the lighted tapers of the clergy. 
No black dress, no signs of mourning whatever 
are seen even among the nearest relatives ; the 
service at church bespeaks triumph, and the organ 
mixes its enlivening sounds with the hymns, which 



284 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



thank death for snatching a tender soul, when 
through a slight and transient tribute of pain, it 
could obtain an exemption from the power of sor- 
row. Yet no funerals are graced with more tears ; 
nor can dirges and penitential mournings produce 
even a shadow of the tender melancholy which 
seizes the mind at the view of the formal and 
affected joy with which a Catholic infant is laid in 
his grave. 

A young unmarried woman among us 

" is allowed her virgin crants,* 

Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home 
Of bell and burial." 

In addition to the wreath of flowers, a palm-branch 
is put into a maiden's hand ; an emblem of victory 
against the allurements of love, which many a poor 
fair conqueror would have willingly exchanged for 
a regular defeat. They are dressed in every other 
respect like nuns, and the coffin is covered with a 
black velvet pall, as in all other funerals. 

The preceding passage in Hamlet begins with 
an allusion to a very ancient custom, which is still 
observed in Spain at the monumental crosses 
erected on the highways to those who have perished 
by the hands of robbers. 

" For charitable prayers, 
Sherds, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her. ,r 



* Garlands, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



285 



This is literally done by every peasant when 
passing one of those rude and melancholy monu- 
ments. A heap of stones is always observed at the 
foot of the cross ; not, however, instead of prayers, 
as the passage would seem to imply, but as a tale 
by which the number of Paternosters said by the 
compassionate passengers, might be reckoned. The 
antiquity of this Christianized custom appears, from 
a passage in the Book of Proverbs, to be very great. 
The proverb or sentence, translated as it is in the 
margin of the English Bible, runs thus: "As he 
that putteth a precious stone in a heap, so is he 
that giveth honour to a fool."^ 

The Latin version which, you must know, is of 
great antiquity, and was made the basis of Jerom's, 
about the middle of the fourth century, renders 
this proverb in a remarkable manner. Sicnt qui 
mittit lapidem in acervum Mercurii ; ita qui tribuit in- 
sipienti honorem. As he that casts a stone on the 
heap of Mercury, &c. &c. Now, bearing in mind 
that stones are at this day thrown upon certain 
graves in Spain ; that, according to the passage in 
Shakspeare, a similar custom seems to have pre- 
vailed in other parts of Europe ; and that Jerom 
believed he rendered the spirit of the Hebrew pro- 
verb by translating the word which the English 
Divines doubted, whether to construe a sling, or a 
heap of stones, by the phrase, acervus Mercurii ; a 



* Proverbs xxvi. 3. 



286 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



deity, whose statues were frequently placed over se- 
pulchres among the Romans — bearing all this in 
mind, I say, it appears to me that the custom of cover- 
ing some graves with stones thrown at random, must 
have existed in the time of the writer of the Pro- 
verbs. Perhaps I may be allowed to conjecture 
that it originated in the punishment of stoning, so 
common among the Jews ; that passengers flung 
stones, as a mark of abhorrence, on the heap which 
hid the body of the criminal ; that the primitive 
Christians, many of whom were Jews, followed the 
same method of shewing their horror of heathen 
tombs, till those places came to be known, in Je- 
rom's time, by the appellation of heaps of Mercury ; 
that modern Christians applied the same custom to 
the graves of such as had been deemed unworthy 
of consecrated ground ; and, finally, that the fre- 
quency of highway robberies and murders in Spain 
detached the custom from the idea of crime, and 
softened, a mark of detestation into one of prayer 
and intercession for the unfortunate victim. 

SPANISH CHRISTIAN NAMES. 

V 

The extraordinary devotion of the Catholics, 
especially in this country, to the Virgin Mary, and 
the notion, supported by the clergy, that as many 
Saints as have their names given to a child at bap- 
tism, are, in some degree, engaged to take it under 
j their protection, occasion a national peculiarity 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 28/ 

not unworthy of remark. In the first place few 
have less than half a dozen names entered in the 
parish register, a list of which is given to the priest 
that he may read them out in the act of christen- 
ing the child. It would be difficult indeed, under 
these circumstances, for most people to know ex- 
actly their own names, especially if, like myself, 
they have been favoured with eleven. The custom 
of the country, however, allows every individual 
to forget all but the first in the list. In our devo- 
tion to the Virgin, we have hitherto avoided the 
strange solecism of the French Monsieur Marie, 
though almost every Spaniard has Maria for a 
second name. 

The titles given to the innumerable images of 
the Virgin Mary, which supply the usual names of 
our females, might occasion the most ludicrous 
puns or misnomers, if habit had not diverted the 
mind from their real meaning. No names are 
more common than Encarnacion, Incarnation — ■ 
Conception, Conception — Visitation, Visitation — 1 
Maravillas, Marvels — Regla, Rule — Dolores, Pains 
— Agustias, Anguishes — Soledad, Solitude — Nativi- 
dad, Nativity, &c. Other titles of the Virgin af- 
ford, however, more agreeable associations. Such 
are Estrella, Star— -Aurora— Amparo, Protection — 
Esperanza, Hope — Salud, Health — Pastora, Shep- 
herdess — Rocio, Dew, &c. But words, as it is 
said of the chameleon, take the colour of the ob- 
jects to which they are attached ; and I have 



28c8- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



known Pains and Solitudes among our Andalusians, 
who, had they been more numerous, might have 
produced a revolution in the significations of the 
language. 

CHRISTMAS. 

Since no festival of any interest takes place be- 
tween summer and this season, it is already time to 
conclude these notes with the expiring year. 

It was the custom, thirty or forty years since, 
among families of fortune, to prepare, for an al- 
most public exhibition, one or two rooms of the 
house, where, upon a clumsy imitation of rocks 
and mountains, a great number of baby-houses and 
clay figures, representing the commonest actions 
of life, were placed amidst a multitude of lamps and 
tapers. A half ruined stable, surrounded by sheep 
and cattle, was seen in the front of the room, with 
the figures of Joseph, Mary, and some shepherds, 
kneeling in adoration of the child in the manger — 
an act which an ass and an ox imitated with the 
greatest composure. This collection of puppets, 
called Nacimiento, is still, though seldom intended 
for show, set up in many houses, both for the amuse- 
ment and the religious gratification of the family 
and their more intimate friends. 

At the period which I have just mentioned, the 
Nacimientos were made a pretext for collecting a 
large party, and passing several nights in dancing, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



289 



and some of the national amusements described in 
the article of Carnival. The rooms being illumi- 
nated after sunset, not only the friends of the family 
were entitled to enjoy the festivities of the evening, 
but any gentleman giving his name at the door, 
might introduce one or more ladies, who, if but 
known by sight to the master of the house, would 
be requested to join in the amusements which fol- 
lowed. These were singing, dancing, and not un- 
frequently, speeches, taken from the old Spanish 
plays, and known by the name of Relaciones. Re- 
citation was considered till lately as an accomplish- 
ment both in males and females ; and persons who 
were known to be skilled in that art, stood up at 
the request of the company to deliver a speech with 
all the gesticulation of our old school of acting, just 
as others gratified their friends by performing upon 
an instrument. A slight refreshment of the Christ- 
mas cakes, called Oxaldres, and sweet wines or 
home-made liqueurs, was enough to free the house 
from the imputation of meanness : thus mirth and 
society were obtained at a moderate expense. But 
the present Nacimientos seldom afford amusement 
to strangers ; and with the exception of singing 
carols to the sound of the zambomba, little remains 
of the old festivities. 

I must not, however, omit a description of the 
noisy instrument whose no less sounding name I 
have just mentioned. It is general in most parts 
of Spain at this season, though never used at any 

u 



290 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



other. A slender shoot of reed (Arundo Donax) is 
fixed in the centre of a piece of parchment, without 
perforating the skin, which, softened by moisture, 
is tied, like a drum-head, round the mouth of a large 
earthen jar. The parchment, when dry, acquires 
a great tension, and the reed being slightly covered 
with wax, allows the clenched hand to glide up and 
down, producing a deep hollow sound of the same 
kind as that which proceeds from the tambourine 
when rubbed with the middle finger. 

The church service on Christmas Eve begins at 
ten in the night, and lasts till five in the morning. 
This custom is observed at every church in the 
town ; nor does their number, or the unseasonable- 
ness of the hour, leave the service unattended in 
any. The music at the Cathedral is excellent. It 
is at present confined to part of the Latin prayers, 
but was, till within a few years, used in a species of 
dramatic interludes in the vulgar tongue, which 
were sung, not acted, at certain intervals of the 
service. These pieces had the name of Villancicos> 
from Villano, a clown; shepherds and shepherdesses 
being the interlocutors in these pastorals. The 
words, printed at the expense of the Chapter, were 
distributed to the public, who still regret the loss 
of the wit and humour of the Swains of Bethlehem. 

The custom of the country requires a formal call 
between Christmas and Twelfth-day, on all one's 
acquaintance ; and tables are placed in the house 
squares, or Patios, to receive the cards of the vi- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 291 

siters. Presents of sweetmeats are common between 
friends ; and patients send to their medical at- 
tendants the established acknowledgment of a tur- 
key ; so that Doctors in great practice open a kind 
of public market for the disposal of their poultry. 
These turkeys are driven in flocks by gipseys, who 
patiently walk in the rear of the ungovernable pha- 
lanxes, from several parts of Old Castile, and chiefly 
from Salamanca. The march which they perform 
is of no less than four hundred miles, and lasts 
about one half of the year. The turkeys, which 
are bought from the farmers mere chickens, acquire 
their full growth, like your fashionables, in travel- 
ling, and seeing the world. 



u 2 



292 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



LETTER X. 

Madrid, 1807. 

My removal to this capital has been sudden and 
unexpected. My friend Leandro, from whom I am 
become inseparable, was advised by his physicians 
to seek relief from a growing melancholy — the 
effect of a mortal aversion to his professional duties, 
and to the intolerant religious system with which 
they are connected — in the freedom and dissipation 
of the court ; and I found it impossible to tear 
myself from him. 

The journey from Seville to Madrid, a distance of 
about two hundred and sixty English miles, is 
usually performed in heavy carriages drawn by six 
mules, in the space of from ten to eleven days. A 
party of four persons is formed by the coachman, 
(Mayoral) who fixes the day and hour for setting 
out, arranges the length of the stages, prescribes 
the time for getting up in the morning, and even 
takes care that every passenger attends mass on a 
Sunday, or any other church festival during the 
Journey. As it was, however, of importance not 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



293 



to delay my friend's removal from Seville, we chose 
the more expensive conveyance hy posting, and 
having obtained a passport, set off in an open and 
half foundered chaise — the usual vehicles till within 
thirty miles of Madrid. 

You will form some idea of our police and go- 
vernment, from the circumstance of our being 
obliged to take our passport, not for Madrid, but 
Salamanca, in order thus to smuggle ourselves into 
the capital. The minister of Gratia y Justicia, or 
home department, Caballero, one of the most will- 
ing and odious instruments of our arbitrary court, 
being annoyed by the multitude of place-hunters, 
whom we denominate Pretendientes, who flocked to 
Madrid from the provinces ; has lately issued an 
order forbidding all persons whatever, to come to 
the capital, unless they previously obtain a royal 
license. To await the King's pleasure would have 
exposed us to great inconvenience, and probably to 
a positive denial. But as the minister's order was 
now two or three months old, a period at which 
our court-laws begin to grow obsolete, and we did 
not mean to trouble his excellency; we trusted to luck 
and our purse, as to any little obstacles which might 
arise from the interference of inferior officers. 

I shall not detain you with a description of our 
journey — the delays at the post-houses — our di- 
minished haste at Valdepenas for the sake of its 
delicious wine just as it is drawn from the immense 
earthen-jars, where it is kept buried in the ground ;. 



294 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



and, finally, the ugly but close and tight post- 
chaises drawn by three mules abreast, which are 
used from Aranjuez to Madrid. I do not love des- 
cription, probably because I cannot succeed in it. 
You will, therefore, have the goodness to apply for 
a picture of this town (for I wish you to remark 
that it is not reckoned among our cities) in Bur- 
going, Townsend, or some other professed traveller. 
My narrative shall, as hitherto, be limited to what 
these gentlemen were not likely to see or under- 
stand with the accuracy and distinctness of a native. 

The influence of the court being unlimited in 
Spain, no object deserves a closer examination from 
such as wish to be acquainted with the moral state 
of this country. I must, therefore, begin with a 
sketch of the main sources of that influence, care- 
fully excluding every report which has reached me 
through any but the most respectable channels, or 
an absolute notoriety. The fountain-head of power 
and honours among us has, till lately, been the 
Queen, a daughter of the late Duke of Parma, a 
very ugly woman, now fast approaching old age, 
yet affecting youth and beauty. She had been but 
a short time married to the present King, then 
Prince of Asturias, when she discovered a strong 
propensity to gallantry, which the austere and 
jealous temper of her father-in-law Charles III. 
was scarcely able to check. Her husband, one of 
those happy beings born to derive bliss from ig- 
norance, has ever preserved a strong and exclusive 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



295 



attachment to her person. This attachment, com- 
bined with a most ludicrous simplicity, closes his 
mind against every approach of suspicion. 

The first favourite of the Princess that awaken- 
ed the King's jealousy, was a gentleman of his son's 
household, named Ortiz. Concerned for the ho- 
nour of the Prince, no less than for the strictness 
of morals, which, from religious principles, he had 
anxiously preserved in his court; he issued an order, 
banishing Ortiz to one of the most distant pro- 
vinces. The Princess, unable to bear this separa- 
tion, and well acquainted with the character of her 
husband, engaged him to obtain the recall of Ortiz 
from the King. Scrupulously faithful to his pro- 
mise, the young Prince watched the first oppor- 
tunity to entreat his father's favour, and falling 
upon his knees, asked the boon of Ortiz's return, 
gravely and affectingly urging that " his wife 
Louisa was quite unhappy without him, as he 
used to amuse her amazingly." The old King, 
surprised and provoked by this wonderful sim- 
plicity, turned his back upon the good-natured 
petitioner, exclaiming : Calla, tonto ! Dexalo irse : 
Que simple que eves ! " Hold your tongue, booby ! 
Let him go : What a simpleton thou art !" 

Louisa deprived, however, of her entertaining 
Ortiz, soon found a substitute in a young officer 
named Luis de Godoy. He was the eldest of three 
brothers, of an ancient but decayed family, in the 
province of Estremadura, who served together in 



296 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN* 



the Horse-Guards, a corps exclusively composed of 
gentlemen, the lowest ranks being filled by com- 
missioned officers. Scarcely had this new attach- 
ment been formed, when the old King unmercifully 
nipped it in the bud, by a decree of banishment 
against Don Luis. The royal order was, as usual, 
so pressing, that the distressed lover could only 
charge his second brother Manuel with a parting 
message, and obtain a promise of his being the 
bearer of as many tokens of constancy and despair, 
as could be safely transmitted by the post. 

It is a part of the cumbrous etiquette of the 
Spanish Court to give a separate guard to every" 
member of the royal family, though all live within 
the King's palace ; and to place sentinels with 
drawn swords at the door of every suite of apart- 
ments. This service is performed without inter- 
ruption day and night, by the military corps just 
mentioned. Manuel Godoy did not find it difficult 
to be on duty in the Prince's guard, as often as he 
had any letter to deliver. A certain tune played 
on the flute, an instrument with which that young 
officer used to beguile the idle hours of the guard, 
was the signal which drew the Princess to a private 
room, to which the messenger had secret, but free 
access. 

There is every reason to believe that Luiss amor- 
ous dispatches had their due effect for some weeks, 
and that his royal mistress lived almost exclusively 
upon their contents. Yet time was working a sad 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 297 

revolution in the fortunes of the banished lover. 
Manuel grew every day more interesting, and the 
letters less so, till the faithless confidant became 
the most amusing of mortals to the Princess, and 
consequently a favourite with her good-natured 
husband. 

The death of the old King had now removed 
every obstacle to the Queen's gallantries, and Ma- 
nuel Godoy was rapidly advanced to the highest 
honours of the state, and the first ranks of the 
army. But the new sovereign did not yet feel 
quite easy upon the throne ; and the dying King's 
recommendation of his favourite Floridablanca, by 
prolonging that minister's power, still set some 
bounds to the Queen's caprices. Charles IV., though 
perfectly under his wife's control, could not be pre- 
vailed upon to dismiss an old servant of his father 
without any assignable reason ; and some respect for 
public opinion, a feeling which seldom fails to cast 
a transient gleam of hope on the first days of every 
reign, obliged the Queen herself to employ other 
means than a mere act of her will in the ruin of 
the premier. He might, however, have preserved 
his place for some time, and been allowed to retire 
with his honours, had not his jealousy of the rising 
Godoy induced him to oppose the tide of favour 
which was now about to raise that young man to a 
Grandeeship of the first class. To provide for the 
splendour of that elevated rank, the Queen had in- 
duced her husband to bestow upon Godoy a princely 



298 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



estate, belonging to the crown, from which he was 
to take the title of the Duke de la Alciidia. Flori- 
dablanca, either from principle, or some less 
honourable motive, thought it necessary to oppose 
this grant as illegal ; and having induced the King 
to consult the Council of Castille upon that point, 
endeavoured to secure an answer agreeable to his 
wishes, by means of a letter to his friend the Count 
Cifuentes. Most unluckily for the minister, before 
this letter arrived from San Ildefonso, where the 
court was at that time, the president was seized 
with a mortal complaint, and the dispatches falling 
into the hands of his substitute Canada, were 
secretly transmitted to the Queen. It is needless 
to add, that the report of the council was favourable, 
that Godoy was made Duke de la Alciidia, and that 
both he and the Queen were now wholly bent upon 
their opposer's ruin. 

During Floridablanca's influence with the King, 
a manuscript satire had been circulated against that 
minister, in which he was charged with having de- 
frauded one Salucci, an Italian banker connected 
with the Spanish Government. Too conscious, it 
should seem, of the truth of the accusation, Florida- 
blanca suspected none but the injured party of 
being the contriver and circulator of the lampoon. 
The obnoxious composition was, however, written 
in better Spanish than Salucci could command, and 
the smarting minister could not be satisfied without 
punishing the author. His spies having informed 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



299 



him that the Marquis de Manea, a man of wit and 
talent, was intimate at Salucci's, he had no need of 
•farther proofs against him. The banker was im- 
mediately banished out of the kingdom, and the 
poet confined to the city of Burgos, under the in- 
spection and control of the civil authorities. 

But the time was now arrived when these men, 
who were too well acquainted with the state of 
Spain to look for redress at the hands of justice, 
were to obtain satisfaction from the spirit of re- 
venge which urged the Queen to seek the ruin of 
her husband's minister. Charles IV. being in- 
formed of Floridablanca's conduct towards Salucci 
and Manca, the last was recalled to Court. His 
enemy's papers, including a large collection of 
billets-doux ) were seized and put into the Marquis's 
hands, to be used as documents in a secret process 
instituted against the minister : who, according to 
his own rules of justice, was, in the mean time, sent 
a prisoner to the fortress of Pamplona. His con- 
finement, however, was not prolonged beyond the 
necessary time to ruin him in the King's opinion ; 
and upon the marriage of two of the Royal 
Princesses, an indulto, or pardon, was issued, by 
which, though declared guilty of embezzling forty- 
two millions of reals, he was enlarged from his close 
confinement, and allowed to reside at Murcia, his 
native town. 

I am not certain, however, whether Florida- 
blanca's dismissal did not shortly precede his ac- 



300 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



cusation by Manca, as the immediate consequence 
of his efforts to make the King join the coalition 
against France after the death of Louis XVI. 
Charles IV. was, it seems, the only sovereign in 
Europe, who felt no alarm at the fate of the un- 
fortunate Louis ; and had more at heart the recol- 
lection of a personal slight from his cousin, than 
all the ties of common interest and blood. Charles 
had learned that, on his accession to the throne of 
Spain, the usual letter of congratulation being pre- 
sented for signature to Louis, that monarch humour- 
ously observed, that he thought the letter hardly 
necessary, " for the poor man," he said, " is a mere 
cypher, completely governed and henpecked by his 
wife." This joke had made such a deep impression 
on the King, as to draw from him, when Louis was 
decapitated, the unfeeling and almost brutal remark 
that " a gentleman so ready to find fault with 
others, did not seem to have managed his own affairs 
very well." The Count de Aranda, who, in the 
cabinet councils, had constantly voted for peace 
with France, was appointed, in February, 1792, to 
succeed Floridablanca. But the turn of affairs, and 
the pressing remonstrances of the allied sovereigns, 
altered the views of Charles; and having, at the 
end of seven months, dismissed Aranda with all the 
honours of his office, Godoy, then Duke of Alcudia, 
was appointed his successor to begin hostilities 
against France. I need not enter into a narrative 
of that ill-conducted and disastrous war. An ap~ 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



30 i 



pearance of success cheered up the Spaniards, 
always ready to fight with their neighbours on the 
other side of the Pyrenees. But the French armies 
having received reinforcements, would have soon 
paid a visit to Charles at Madrid, if his favourite 
minister, with more address than he ever discovered 
in his subsequent management of political affairs, 
had not concluded and ratified the peace of Basle. 

The fears of the whole country at the progress of 
the French arms had been so strong, that peace 
was hailed with enthusiasm ; and the public joy, 
on that occasion, would have been unalloyed but 
for the extravagant rewards granted to Godoy for 
concluding it. A new dignity above the grandee- 
ship was created for him alone, and, under the title 
of Prince of the Peace, Godoy was placed next in 
rank to the Princes of the royal blood. 

There was but one step in the scale of honours 
which could raise a mere subject higher than the 
Queen's favour had exalted Godoy — a marriage into 
the royal family. But the only distinction which 
love seemed not blind enough to confer on the 
favourite, he actuallly owed to the jealousy of his 
mistress. 

Among the beauties whom the hope of the young 
ministers favour drew to Madrid from all parts of 
Spain, there was an unmarried lady of the name of 
Tudo, a native of Malaga, whose charms both of 
person and mind would have captivated a much less 
susceptible heart than Godoy's. From the moment 



302 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



she was presented by her parents, La Tudo (we 
are perfectly unceremonious in naming ladies of all 
ranks) obtained so decided a supremacy above the 
numerous sharers in the favourite's love, that the 
Queen, who had hitherto overlooked a crowd of oc- 
casional rivals, set her face against an attachment 
which bid fair to last for life. It had, indeed, 
subsisted long enough to produce unquestionable 
proof of the nature of the intimacy, in a child whose 
birth, though not blazoned forth as if sanctioned by 
public opinion, was not hidden with any conscious- 
ness of shame. A report being circulated at court, 
that the Prince of the Peace was secretly married 
to La Tudo, the Queen, in a fit of jealousy, accused 
him to the King as guilty of ingratitude, in thus 
having allied himself to a woman of no birth, with- 
out the slightest mark of deference to his royal be- 
nefactors. The King, whose fondness for Godoy 
had grown above his wife's control, seemed inclined 
to discredit the story of the marriage ; but, being 
at that time at one of the royal country residences 
called Sitios — the Escurial, I believe, where the 
ministers have apartments within the palace ; the 
Queen led her husband through a secret passage, to 
a room where they surprised the lovers taking their 
supper in a comfortable tete-a-tete. 

The feelings excited by this sight must have 
been so different in each of the royal couple, that 
one can scarcely feel surprised at the strangeness 
of the result. Godoy had only to deny the mar- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



303 



riage to pacify the King, whose good nature was 
ready to make allowances for a mere love- intrigue 
of his favourite. The Queen, hopeless of ever 
being the exclusive object of the gallantries of a 
man to whom she was chained by the blindest in- 
fatuation, probably feared lest the step she had 
taken should tear him away from her presence. A 
slave to her vehement passions, and a perfect 
stranger to those delicate feelings which vice itself 
cannot smother in some hearts, she seemed satis- 
fied with preventing her chief rival from rising 
above her own rank of a mistress; and, provided 
the place was occupied by one to whom her para- 
mour was indifferent, wished to see him married, 
and be herself the match-maker. 

The King's late brother, Don Luis, w ho,, in spite 
of a cardinal's hat, and the archbishoprick of Seville, 
conferred on him before he was of age to take holy 
orders, stole a kind of left-handed marriage with 
a Spanish lady of the name of Vallabriga ; had left 
two daughters and a son, under the guardianship of 
the archbishop of Toledo. Though not, hitherto, 
allowed to take their father's name, these children 
were considered legitimate ; and it is probable that 
the King had been desirous of putting them in pos- 
session of the honours due to their birth, long 
before the Queen proposed the eldest of her nieces 
both as a reward for Godoy's services, and a 
means to prevent in future such sallies of youthful 
folly as divided his attention between pleasure and 



304 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the service of the crown. These or similar reasons 
(for history must content herself with conjecture, 
when the main springs of events lie not only be- 
hind the curtain of state, but those of a four-post 
bed) produced in the space of a few weeks, a public 
recognition of Don Luis' s children, and the an- 
nouncemnet of his eldest daughters intended mar- 
riage with the Prince of the Peace. 

The vicious source of Godoy's unbounded power, 
the temper of the Court where he enjoyed it, and 
the crowd of flatterers which his elevation had 
gathered about him, would preclude all expectation 
of any great or virtuous qualities in his character. 
Yet there are facts connected with the beginning 
of his government which prove that he was not 
void of those vague wishes of doing good, which, as 
they spring up, are " choked with cares and riches 
and pleasures of this world." I have been assured 
by an acute and perfectly disinterested observer, 
whose high rank gave him free access to the favour- 
ite, during part of the period when with the title 
of Duke de la Alctidia he was at the head of the 
Spanish ministry, that " there was every reason to 
believe him active, intelligent, and attentive in the 
discharge of his duty ; and that he was perfectly 
exempt from all those airs and affectation which 
men who rise by fortune more than merit, are apt 
to be justly accused of." Though, like all the 
Spanish youth brought up in the military profession, 
he was himself unlettered, he shewed great respect 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 305 

for talents and literature in the formation of the 
ministry which succeeded his own ; when, from his 
new rank, and his marriage into the royal family, 
he was considered above the duties of office. 

Saavedra, whom he made first minister of state, 
is a man of great natural quickness, improved both 
by reading and the observation of real life ; but so 
irresolute of purpose, so wavering in judgment, so 
incapable of decision, that, while in office, he seemed 
more fit to render public business interminable, 
than to direct its course in his own department. 
Jovellanos, appointed to be Saavedra's colleague, is 
justly considered as one of the living ornaments of 
our literature. Educated at Salamanca in one of 
the Colegios May foes, before the reform which 
stripped those bodies of their honours and influence, 
he was made a judge in his youth, and gradually 
ascended to one of the supreme councils of the na- 
tion. His upright and honourable conduct in every 
stage of his life, both public and private, the urbanity 
of his manners, and the formal elegance of his con- 
versation, render him a striking exemplification of 
the old Spanish Cavallero. With the virtues and 
agreeable qualities of that character, he unites 
many of the prejudices peculiar to the period to 
which it belongs. To a most passionate attach- 
ment to the privileges and distinctions of blood, he 
joins a superstitious veneration for all kinds of ex- 
ternal forms. The strongest partialities warp his 

x 



306 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



fine understanding, confining it, upon numerous 
subjects^ to distorted or limited views. As a judge 
and a man of letters, he was respected and admired 
by all. As a chief justice in any of our provincial 
courts of law, he would have been a blessing to the 
people of his district ; while the dignified leisure 
of that situation would have enabled him to enrich 
our literature with the productions of his elegant 
mind. As a minister, however, through whose 
hands all the gifts of the Crown were to be distri- 
buted to a hungry country, where two-thirds of 
the better classes look up to patronage for a com- 
fortable subsistence, he disappointed the hopes of 
the nation. At Court, his high notions of rank 
converted his rather prim manner into downright 
stiffness ; and his blind partiality for the natives 
of Asturias 3 his province — probably because he 
thought them the purest remnant of Gothic blood 
in Spain — made him the most unpopular of minis- 
ters. Instead of promoting the welfare of the na- 
tion by measures which gradually, and upon a large 
, scale, might counteract the influence of a profligate 
Court, he tried to oppose the Queen s established 
interference in detail. She once made a personal 
application to Jovellan s in favour of a certain can- 
didate for a prebendal stall. The minister gave her 
a flat denial, alleging that the person in question 
had not qualified himself at any of the universities. 
u At which of them," said the Queen, " did you 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



307 



receive your education ?" — " At Salamanca, Ma- 
dam." — " What a pity," rejoined she, " that they 
forgot to teach you manners !" 

While employed in this petty warfare, which 
must have soon ended in his dismissal, a circum- 
stance occurred, which, though it was the means 
of reconciling the Queen to Jovellanos for a time, 
has finally consigned him to a fortress in Majorca, 
where to this day he lingers under a confinement 
no less unjust than severe. 

The ceremony of Godoy's marriage was scarcely 
over, when he resumed his intimacy with La Tudo 
in the most open and unguarded manner. The 
Queen, under a relapse of jealousy, seemed so de- 
termined to clip the wings of her spoiled favourite, 
that Jovellanos was deceived into a hope of making 
this pique the means of reclaiming his patron, if 
not to the path of virtue, at least to the rules of ex- 
ternal propriety. Saavedra, better acquainted with 
the world, and well aware that Godoy could, at 
pleasure, resume any degree of ascendancy over the 
Queen, entered reluctantly into the plot. Not so 
Jovellanos. Treating this Court intrigue as one of 
the regular lawsuits on which he had so long .prac- 
tised his skill and impartiality, he could not bring 
himself to proceed without serving a notice upon 
the party concerned. He accordingly forwarded 
a remonstrance to the Prince of the Peace, in which 
he reminded him of his public and conjugal duties, 
in the most forcible style of forensic and moral 



308 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



eloquence. The Queen, in the mean time, had 
worked up her husband into a feeling approaching 
to anger against Godoy, and the decree for his 
banishment was all but signed before the offending 
gallant thought himself in such danger as to require 
the act of submission, which alone could restore 
him to the good graces of his neglected mistress. 
He owed, however, his safety to nothing but Saa- 
vedra's indecision and dilatoriness. That minister 
could not be persuaded to present the decree of 
banishment for the royal signature, till the day after 
it had been agreed upon. Godoy, in the mean 
time, obtained a private interview with the Queen, 
who, under the influence of a long-checked and re- 
turning passion, in order to exculpate herself, re- 
presented the Ministers — the very men whom Go- 
doy had raised into power — as the authors of the 
plot ; and probably attributed the plan to Jovella- 
nos, making him, from this moment, the marked 
object of the favourite's resentment. 

The baffled Ministers, though not immediately 
dismissed, must have felt the unsteadiness of the 
ground on which they stood, and dreaded the re- 
venge of an enemy, who had already shewn, in the 
case of Admiral Malaspina, that he was both able 
and willing to wreak it on the instruments of the 
Queens jealousy. That officer, an Italian by birth, 
had just returned from a voyage round the globe, 
performed at the expense of this Government, when 
the Queen, who found it difficult to regulate the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



309 



feelings of her husband towards Godoy, to the sud- 
den and rapid variations of her own, induced her 
confidant, the Countess of Matallana, to engage him 
in drawing up a memorial to the King, containing 
observations on the public and private conduct of 
the favourite, and representing him in the blackest 
colours. Malaspina was at this time preparing the 
account of his voyage for publication, with the as- 
sistance of a conceited sciolist, a Sevillian friar 
called Padre Gil, who, in our great dearth of real 
knowledge, was looked upon as a miracle of erudi- 
tion and eloquence. The Admiral, putting aside 
his charts and log-books, eagerly collected every 
charge against Godoy which was likely to make 
an impression upon the King ; while the friar, in- 
spired with the vision of a mitre ready to drop on 
his head, clothed them in the most florid and 
powerful figures which used to enrapture his audi- 
ence from the pulpit. Nothing was now wanting 
but the Queen's command to spring the mine under 
the feet of the devoted Godoy, when the intended 
victim, informed of his danger, and taking advantage 
of one of those soft moments which made the 
Queen and all her power his own, drew from her a 
confession of the plot, together with the names of 
the conspirators. In a few days, Malaspina found 
himself conveyed to a fortress, where, with his 
voyage, maps, scientific collections, and every thing 
relating to the expedition, he remains completely 
forgotten ; while the reverend writer of the memo- 



310 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



rial was forwarded under an escort to Seville, the 
scene of his former literary glory, to be confined in 
a house of correction, where juvenile offenders of 
the lower classes are sent to undergo a salutary 
course of flogging. 

The Queen was preparing the dismissal of Saave- 
dra and Jovellanos, when a dangerous illness of the 
former brought forward a new actor in the intricate 
drama of Court intrigue, who, had he known how 
to use his power, might have worked the complete 
ruin of its hero. 

The First Clerk of the Secretary of State's Office— 
a place answering to that of your under-secretary of 
State — was a handsome young man, called Urquijo. 
His name is probably not unknown to you, as he 
was a few years ago with the Spanish Ambassador 
in London, where his attachment to the French 
jacobins and their measures could not fail to attract 
some notice, from the unequivocal heroic proof of 
self-devotion which he shewed to that party. It 
was, in fact, an attempt to drown himself in the 
pond at Kensington Gardens, upon learning the 
peace made by Buonaparte with the Pope at Tolen- 
tino ; a treaty which disappointed his hopes of 
seeing the final destruction of the Papal See, and 
Rome itself a heap of ruins, in conformity to a 
decree of the French Directory. Fortune, however, 
having determined to transform our brave Sans- 
Culotte into a courtier, afforded him a timely rescue 
from the muddy deep ; and when, under the care of 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN". 



311 



Doctor V — — , he had been brought to understand 
how little his drowning would influence the events 
of the French war, he returned to Madrid, to wield 
his pen in the office where his previous qualification 
of Joven de Lenguas* had entitled him to a place, 
till he rose, by seniority, to that of Under-Se- 
cretary. 

Every Spanish minister has a day appointed in 
the course of the week — called Dia de Despacho — 
when he lays before the King the contents of his 
portfolio, to dispose of them according to his Ma- 
jesty's pleasure. The Queen, who is excessively 
fond of power,-}- never fails to attend on the occa- 
sions. The minister, during this audience, stands, 
or, if desired, sits on a small stool near a large table 
placed between him and the King and Queen. 
The love of patronage, not of business, is, of course, 
the object of the Queens assiduity ; while nothing 
but the love of gossip enables her husband to endure 
the drudgery of these sittings. During Saavedra's 
ministry, his Majesty was highly delighted with 
the premier's powers of conversation, and his inex- 
haustible fund of good stories. The portfolio was 
laid upon the table ; the Queen mentioned the 
names of her proteges, and the King, referring all 

* Young men are appointed to go abroad with the Spanish 
ambassadors in order to learn foreign lang uages, and thus qualify 
themselves as diplomatists. 

t It is a well known fact that there are letters in existence 
addressed by her, while Princess of Asturias, to the judges in the 
provinces, asking their votes in pending lawsnits. 



312 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



other business to the decision of the minister, began 
a comfortable chat, which lasted till bed-time. 
When Saavedra was taken with that sudden and 
dangerous illness which Godoy's enemies were in- 
clined to attribute to poison, (a suspicion, however, 
which both the favourite's real good nature, and bis 
subsequent lenity towards Saavedra, absolutely con- 
tradict) the duty of carrying the portfolio to the 
King devolved upon the Under-secretary. Urquijo's 
handsome person and elegant manners made a deep 
impression upon the Queen ; and ten thousand 
whispers spread the important news the next morn- 
ing, that her Majesty had desired the young clerk 
to take a seat. 

This favourable impression, it is more than pro- 
bable, was heightened by a fresh pique against 
Godoy, whose growing disgust of his royal mistress, 
and firm attachment to La Tudo, offered her Ma- 
jesty daily subjects of mortification. She now con- 
ceived the plan of making Urquijo, not only her in- 
strument of revenge, but, it is generally believed, a 
substitute for the incorrigible favourite. But in 
this amorous Court even a Queen can hardly find a 
vacant heart ; and Urquijo's was too deeply engaged 
to one of Godoy's sisters, to appear sensible of her 
Majesty's condescension. He mustered, however, a 
sufficient portion of gallantry to support the Queen 
in her resolution of separating Godoy from the 
Court, and depriving him of all influence in matters 
of government. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



313 



It is, indeed, surprising, that the Queen's resent- 
ment proceeded no farther against the man who 
had so often provoked it, and that his disgrace was 
not attended with the usual consequences of degra- 
dation and imprisonment. Many and powerful cir- 
cumstances combined, however, in Godoy's favour 
— the King's almost parental fondness towards him 
— the new minister's excessive conceit of his own 
influence and abilities, no less than his utter con- 
tempt of the discarded favourite— and, most of all, 
the Queen's unextinguished and ever reviving pas- 
sion, backed by her fears of driving to extremities 
a man who had, it is said, in his power, the means 
of exposing her without condemning himself. 

During Saavedra's ministry, and that interval of 
coldness produced by Godoy's capricious gallan- 
tries, which enabled his enemies to make the first 
attempt against him ; his royal mistress had con- 
ceived a strong fancy for one Mallo, a native of 
Caraccas, and then an obscure Garde du Corps. 
The rapid promotion of that young man, and the 
display of wealth and splendour which he began to 
make, explained the source of his advancement to 
every one but the King. Godoy himself seems to 
have been stung with jealousy, probably not so 
much from his rival's share in the Queen's affec- 
tions, as from the ill-concealed vanity of the man, 
whose sole aim was to cast into shade the whole 
Court. Once, as the King and Queen, attended by 
Godoy and other grandees of the* household, were 



314 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



standing at the balcony of the royal seat El Pardo, 
Mallo appeared at a distance, driving four beautiful 
horses, and followed by a brilliant retinue. The 
King's eye was caught by the beauty of the equi- 
page, and he inquired to whom it belonged. Hear- 
ing that it was Mallo' s — " I wonder/' he said, " how 
that fellow can afford to keep such horses." — 
u Why, please your Majesty," replied Godoy, C( the 
scandal goes, that he himself is kept by an ugly 
old woman — I quite forget her name." 

Mallo's day of prosperity was but short. His 
vanity^ coxcombry and folly, displeased the King, 
and alarmed the Queen. But in the first ardour of 
her attachments, she generally had the weakness of 
committing her feelings to writing ; and Mallo pos- 
sessed a collection of her letters. Wishing to rid 
herself of that absurd, vain fop, and yet dreading 
an exposure, she employed Godoy in the recovery 
of her written tokens. Mallo's house was sur- 
rounded with soldiers in the dead of night ; and he 
was forced to yield the precious manuscripts into 
the hands of his rival. The latter, however, was 
too well aware of their value to deliver them to the 
writer ; and he is said to keep them as a powerful 
charm, if not to secure his mistress's affection, at 
least to subdue her fits of fickleness and jealousy. 
Mallo was soon banished and forgotten. 

The two ministers, Saavedra and Jovellanos, had 
been rusticated to their native provinces ; the first, 
on account of ill health ; the second, from the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



315 



Queen s unconquerable dislike. Urquijo, who seems 
to have been unable either to gain the King's es- 
teem, or fully to return the Queen s affection, could 
keep his post no longer than while the latter' s ever 
ready fondness for Godoy, was not awakened by the 
presence of its object. The absence of the favour- 
ite, it is generally believed, might have been pro- 
longed, by good policy, and management of the 
King on the part of Urquijo, if his rashness and 
conceit of himself had ever allowed him to suspect 
that any influence whatever, was equal to that of 
his talents and person. Instead of strongly op- 
posing a memorial of the Prince of the Peace, 
asking permission to kiss their majesties' hands 
upon the birth of a daughter, borne to him by the 
Princess his wife, Urquijo imagined the Queen so 
firmly attached to himself, that he conceived no 
danger from this transient visit of his offended 
rival. Godoy made his appearance at Court; and 
from that moment Urquijo's ruin became inevit- 
able. His hatred of the Court of Rome had induced 
the latter to encourage the translation of a Portu- 
guese work, against the extortions of the Italian 
Data?ia, in cases of dispensations for marriage 
within the prohibited degrees. Thinking the pub- 
lic mind sufficiently prepared by that work, he 
published a royal mandate to the Spanish bishops, 
urging them to resume their ancient rights of dis- 
pensation. This step had armed against its author 
the greater part of the clergy ; and the Prince of 



316 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



the Peace found it easy to alarm the King s eon- 
science by means of the Pope's nuncio, Cardinal 
Casoni, who made him believe that his minister 
had betrayed him into a measure which trespassed 
upon the rights of the Roman Pontiff. I believe 
that Godoy's growing dislike of the Inquisition 
spared Urquijo the horrors of a dungeon within its 
precincts. He had not, however, sufficient gene- 
rosity to content himself with the banishment of 
his enemy to Guipuzcoa. An order for his impri- 
sonment in a fortress followed him thither in a short 
time — a circumstance, which might raise a suspi- 
cion that Urquijo had employed his personal 
liberty to make a second attempt against the re- 
called favourite. 

This supposition would be strongly supported by 
the general mildness of Godoy's administration, if 
one instance of cruel and implacable revenge were 
not opposed to so favourable a view of his conduct. 
Whether the Queen represented Jovellanos to the 
Prince of the Peace as the chief actor in the first 
plot which was laid against him, or that he charged 
that venerable magistrate with ingratitude for tak- 
ing any share in a conspiracy against the man who 
had raised him to power ; Godoy had scarcely been 
restored to his former influence, when he procured 
an order to confine Jovellanos in the Carthusian 
Convent of Majorca. The unmanliness of this se- 
cond and long-meditated blow, roused the indigna- 
tion of his fallen and hitherto silent adversary, call- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



317 



ing forth that dauntless and dignified inflexibility 
which makes him, in our days, so fine a specimen 
of the old Spanish character. From his confine- 
ment he addressed a letter to the King, exposing 
the injustice of his treatment in terms so removed 
from the servile tone of a Spanish memorial, so re- 
gardless of the power of his adversary, that it kind- 
led anew the resentment of the favourite, through 
whose hands he well knew it must make its way 
to the throne. Such a step was more likely to ag- 
gravate than to obtain redress for his wrongs. The 
virtues, the brilliant talents, and pleasing address of 
Jovellanos had so gained upon the affections of the 
monks, that they treated him with more deference 
than even a minister in the height of his power 
could have expected. Godoy's spirit of revenge 
could not brook his enemy's enjoyment of this 
small remnant of happiness ; and with a cruelty 
which casts the blackest stain on his character, he 
removed him to a fortress in the same island, where, 
under the control of an illiterate and rude governor, 
Jovellanos is deprived of all communication, and 
limited to a small number of books for his mental 
enjovment. The character of the gaoler may be 
conceived from the fact of his not being able to 
distinguish a icork from a volume. Jovellano's 
friends are not allowed to relieve his solitude with a 
variety of books, even to the number contained 
in the governor's instructions ; for he reckons 
literary works by the piece, and a good edition of 



318 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Cicero, for instance, appears to him a complete 
library.* 

Since his restoration to favour, the Prince of the 
Peace has been gradually and constantly gaining 
ascendancy. The usual titles of honour being ex- 
hausted upon him, the antiquated dignity of High- 
Admiral has been revived and conferred upon him, 
just at the time when your tars have left us with- 
out a navy. Great emoluments, and the address 
of Highness have been annexed to this dignity. A 
brigade of cavalry, composed of picked men from 
the whole army, has been lately given to the High- 
Admiral as a guard of honour. His power, in fine, 
though delegated, is unlimited, and he may be pro- 
perly said to be the acting Sovereign of Spain. 
The King, by the unparalleled elevation of this 
favourite, has obtained his heart's desire in a perfect 
exemption from all sorts of employment, except 
shooting, to which he exclusively devotes every day 
of the year. Soler, the minister of finance, is em- 
ployed to fleece the people ; and Caballero, in the 
home department, to keep them in due ignorance and 
subjection. I shall just give you a sample of each of 
these worthies' minds and principles. — It has been 
the custom for centuries at Valladolid to make the 
Dominican Convent of that town a sort of bank for 
depositing sums of money, as it was done in the 
ancient temples, under similar circumstances of 



See Note K. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



319 



ignorance, of commerce and insecurity of property. 
Soler, being informed that the monks held in their 
hands a considerable deposit, declared " that it was 
an injury to the state to allow so much money to 
lie idle/' and seizing it, probably for the Queen, 
whose incessant demands form the most pressing 
and considerable item of the Spanish budget, gave 
government-paper to the monks, which the credi- 
tors might sell, if they chose, at eighty per cent, 
discount. — Caballero, fearing the progress of all 
learning, which might disturb the peace of the 
Court, sent, not long since, a circular order to the 
Universities, forbidding the study of moral philoso- 
phy : " His Majesty," it was said in the order, "was 
not in want of philosophers, but of good and obe- 
dient subjects." 

Under the active operation of this system, the 
Queen has the command of as much money and 
patronage as she desires ; and finding it imprac- 
ticable to check the gallantries of her c/ier ami, has 
so perfectly conquered her jealousy as to be able 
not only to be on the most amicable terms with 
him, but to emulate his love of variety in the most 
open and impudent manner. 

I wish to have done with the monstrous heap of 
scandal, which the state of our Court has unavoid- 
ably forced into my narrative. Much, indeed, 
I leave untold ; but I cannot omit an original and 
perfectly authentic story, which, as it explains the 
mystery of the King's otherwise inexplicable blind- 



320 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



ness respecting his wife's conduct, justice requires 
to be made public. The world shall see that his 
Majesty's apathy does not arise from any disgrace- 
ful indifference for what is generally considered by 
men as a vital point of honour ; but that the peace 
and tranquillity of his mind is grounded on a philo- 
sophical system — I do not know whether physical 
or moral — which is, I believe^ peculiar to himself. 

The old Duke del I (on the authority of 

whose lady I give you the anecdote) was once, with 
other grandees, in attendance on the King, when 
his Majesty, being in high gossiping humour., en- 
tered into a somewhat gay conversation on the fair 
sex. He descanted, at some length, on fickleness 
and caprice, and laughed at the dangers of hus- 
bands in these southern climates. Having had his 
fill of merriment on the subject of jealousy, he con- 
cluded with an air of triumph — " We, crowned 
heads, however, have this chief advantage above 
others, that our honour, as they call it, is safe ; for 
suppose that queens were as much bent on mischief 
as some of their sex, where could they find kings 
and emperors to flirt with ? Eh ?" 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



321 



LETTER XL 



Madrid, ~ 1807. 

In giving you a sketch of private life at Madrid, 
I shall begin by a character quite peculiar to the 
country, and well known all over Spain by the 
name of Preten dientes, or pl ace-huntgrg. Very dif- 
ferent ideas, however, are attached to these deno- 
minations in the two languages. Young men of 
the proudest families are regularly sent to Court on 
that errand, and few gentlemen destine their sons 
either for the church or the law, without calcu- 
lating the means of supporting them three or four 
years at Madrid, as regular and professed place- 
hunters. The fact is, that, with the exception 
of three stalls in every cathedral, and in some col- 
legiate churches, that are obtained by literary com- 
petition, there is not a single place of rank and 
emolument to which Court interest is not the 
exclusive road. Hence the necessity for all who 
do not possess an independent fortune, in other 
words, for more than two thirds of the Spanish 
gentry, to repair to the capital, there to procure 

y 



322 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



that interest, by whatever means their circum- 
stances may afford. 

The Pretendientes may be divided into four 
classes. Clergymen, who aspire to any preferment 
not inferior to a prebend ; lawyers, who wish to 
obtain a place on the bench of judges in one of our 
numerous courts, both of Spain and Spanish Ame- 
rica ; men of business, who desire to be employed 
in the collection of the revenue: and advocates, 
whose views do not extend beyond a Corregimiento 
— a kind of Recordership, with very limited judicial 
powers, which exists in every town of any note 
where there is not an Audiencia, or superior tri- 
bunal. I shall dispatch the last two classes in 
a few words. 

Between our advocates or barristers, and the su- 
perior judges, called Oidores, there is such a line of 
distinction as to be almost an insuperable barrier. 
A young man, who, having studied Roman law 
at the University, attends three or four years at an 
acting advocate's chambers, is, after an examination 
on Spanish law, qualified to plead at the courts of 
justice. But once engaged in this branch of the 
law, he must give up all hopes of rising above that 
doubtful rank which his profession gives him in so- 
ciety. Success may make him rich, but he must 
be contented with drudging for life at the bar of a 
provincial court, and bear the slighting and insolent 
tone with which the judges consider themselves at 
liberty to treat the advocates. It is, therefore, not 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



323 



uncommon among young lawyers, who cannot com- 
mand interest enough to be placed on the bench, to 
offer themselves as candidates for a Corregimiento t 
Having scraped together a little money, and pro- 
cured a few letters of recommendation, they repair 
to Madrid, where they are seen almost daily in the 
ministers waiting-room with a petition, and a 
printed list of their university degrees and literary 
qualifications, called Papel de Meritos, which, after 
two or three hours attendance, they think them- 
selves happy if his excellency will take from their 
hands. Such as can obtain an introduction to 
some of the grandees who have the right to appoint 
magistrates on their estates, confine themselves to 
the easier, though rather more humiliating task, 
of toad-eating to their patron. 

The Pretendientes for the higher branches of 
finance, must be able to make a more decent ap- 
pearance at Court, if they hope for success. It is 
not, however, the minister for that department, 
who is most to be courted in order to obtain these 
lucrative places. A recommendation from the 
Queen, or from the Prince of the Peace, generally 
interferes with his views, if he allows himself to 
have any of his own. To obtain the first, a hand- 
some figure, or some pleasing accomplishment, 
such as singing to the guitar in the Spanish style, 
are the most likely means, either by engaging her 
Majesty's attention, or the affections of some of her 
favourite maids of honour. The no less powerful 

y 2 



324 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



recommendation of the Prince of the Peace is, I 
must say in justice to him, not always made the 
reward of flattery, or of more degrading servility. 
Justice and a due regard for merit, are, it is true, 
far from regulating the distribution of his patronage: 
yet, very different from the ministers who tremble 
before him, he can be approached by every indivi- 
dual in the kingdom, without an introduction, and 
in the certainty of receiving a civii, if not a favour- 
able answer. His great failing, however, being the 
love of pleasure, none are so sure of a gracious re- 
ception as those who appear at his public levees, 
attended by a handsome wife or blooming daughter. 
The fact is so well known all over the country, and 
—I blush to say it — the national character is so far 
sinking under the influence of this profligate govern- 
ment, that beauties flock from every province for 
the chance of being noticed by the favourite. His 
public levee presents every week a collection of the 
handsomest women in the country, attended by 
their fathers or husbands. A suit thus supported 
is never known to fail. 

The young aspirants to a toga, or judge's gown, 
often succeed through some indirect influence of 
this kind. The strange notion that an advocate — 
one that has pleaded causes at the bar — has, in a 
manner, disqualified himself for the bench, leaves 
the administration of justice open to inexperienced 
young men, who, having taken a degree in Roman 
law, and nominally attached themselves for a short 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



325 



time to an advocate , as practioners, are suddenly 
raised to the important station of judges, either by- 
marrying any of the Queen's maids of honour, or 
some more humble beauty on whom the Prince of 
the Peace has cast a transient gleam of favour. I 
have known such a reward extended to the sister 
of a temporary favourite, who, being poor, and in 
love with a young man of family, poor himself, 
and hopeless of otherwise obtaining a place, en- 
abled him to marry, by bringing a judge's gown for 
her portion. Yet so perfectly can circumstances 
alter the connexion which some moral feelings have 
between themselves under certain forms and modi- 
fications of society, that the man I allude to, as 
having owed his promotion to such objectionable 
influence, is an example of justice and impartiality 
in the difficult station in which he has been placed. 
I do not mean, however, that a person who degrades 
his character with a view to promotion, gives a fair 
promise of honourable principles when called to 
discharge the duties of a public office : the growing 
venality of our judges is too sad and clear a proof 
of the reverse. But when a Government becomes 
so perfectly abandoned as to block up with filth and 
pollution every avenue to wealth, power, and even 
bare subsistence, men who, in a happier country, 
would have looked upon the contaminated path 
with abhorrence, or, had they ventured a single step 
upon it, would have been confirmed in their degra- 
dation by the indelible brand of public censure ; 



326 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



are seen to yield for a moment to the combined in- 
fluence of want and example, and recover themselves 
so far, as almost to deserve the thanks of the people 
for having snatched a portion of authority from the 
grasp of the absolutely worthless. 

Before I proceed to the remaining class of. Pre- 
tendientes, allow me, as a relief from the contem- 
plation of this^ scene of vice andjyrmption, to ac- 
quaint you with a man in power who, unwarped 
by any undue influence, has uniformly employed 
his patronage in the encouragement of modest and 
retiring merit. His name is Don Manuel Sixto 
Espinosa. His father was a musician, who having 
had the good fortune to please the King by his 
tasteful performances on the piano, was appointed 
teacher of that instrument to the Royal Family. 
His son, a young man of great natural abilities, 
which he had applied to the study of finance and 
political economy, (branches of knowledge little 
attended to in Spain,) had been gradually raised 
to a place of considerable influence in that depart- 
ment, when his well-known talents made the Prince 
of the Peace fix upon him as the fittest man to 
direct the establishment for the consolidation of 
the public debt. Espinosa, as Director of the 
Sinking Fund, has been accused of impiety by the 
clergy, for trespassing on their overgrown privi- 
leges ; and blamed, by such as allow themselves to 
canvass state matters in whispers, for not opposing 
the misapplication of the funds he enables Govern- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



327 



merit to collect. It would be needless to answer 
the first charge. As to the second,, common* can- 
dour will allow that it is unfair to confound the 
duties of a collector with those of a trustee of the 
national revenue. 

Without, however, entering upon the only re- 
maining question, whether, in the unfortunate cir~ 
cumstances of this country, it is an honest man's 
duty to refuse his services to a Government whose 
object is to fleece the subject in order to pamper its 
own vices — a doctrine doubtful in theory, and 
almost inapplicable in practice, — Espinosa has qua- 
lities acknowledged by* all who know him, and even 
undenied by his enemies, which, without raising 
him into an heroic model of public virtue, make 
him a striking instance of the power of virtuous 
and honourable principle, in the midst of every al- 
lurement and temptation which profligacy, armed 
with supreme power, can employ. Inaccessible to 
influence, his patronage has uniformly been ex- 
tended to men of undoubted merit. A manuscript 
Essay on Political Economy, written by a friendless 
young man and presented to Espinosa, was enough 
to obtain the author a valuable appointment. A 
decided enemy to the custom of receiving presents, 
so prevalent in Spain, as to have become a matter 
of course in every suit, either for justice or favour ; 
I positively know, that when a commercial trans- 
action, to the amount of millions, between this 
Government and a mercantile house in London 



328 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



had received his approbation, Espinosa sent back a 
hamper of wine, which one of the partners had 
hoped, from its trifling value, he would have re- 
ceived as a token of gratitude. His private conduct 
is exemplary, and his manners perfectly free from 
66 the insolence of office," which he might assume 
from the high honours to which he has been raised. 
His parents, now very old, and living in the modest, 
unassuming style which becomes their original rank, 
are visited by Espinosa every Sunday, (the only day 
which leaves him a moment of rest) and treated 
with the utmost kindness and deference. Always 
mild and modest in his deportment, it is on these 
occasions that he seems quite to forget his honours, 
and carry himself back to the time when he looked 
for love and protection from those two, now, help- 
less beings. It is there, and only there, that I once 
met Espinosa, and he has ever since possessed my 
respect. If I have dwelt too long on the subject 
of a man perfectly unknown to you, I trust you 
will not attribute it to any of the motives which 
generally prompt the praises of men in power. 
These, indeed, can never reach the ear of him they 
commend, nor has he the means to serve the eulo- 
gist. But the daily sickening sight of this infamous 
Court makes the mind cling to the few objects 
which still bear the impress of virtue : and having 
to proceed with the disgusting picture in which I 
have engaged, I gladly seized the opportunity of 
dispelling the impression which my subject might 



X 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 320 

leave^ either that I take pleasure in vilifying my 
country., or that every seed of honour has died 
away from the land. 

I do not know how it happens that in going 
through the description of the different classes of 
Pretendientes , I have inverted the order which they 
hold in my enumeration, so that I still find myself 
with the Reverend Stall-hunters upon my hands. 
These, as you may suppose, are, by the decencies 
of their profession, compelled to take quite a dif- 
ferent course from those already described ; for 
Hymen, in this country, expects nothing from the 
clergy but disturbance ; and Love, accustomed, at 
Court, to the glitter of lace and embroidery, is, 
usually, frightened at the approach of their black 
cloaks, and the flapping brims of their enormous 
hats. 

During the last reign, and the early part of the 
present, the King seldom disposed of his patronage 
without the advice of his Privy Council. The 
Camaristas dc Castilla received the petitions of 
the candidates, accompanied by documental proofs 
of their merits and qualifications, and reported 
thereon to the King through the Minister of the 
home department. Such was the established prac- 
tice till the Queen took to herself the patronage of 
the Crown, and finally shared it with her favourite. 
The houses of the Privy Counsellors were, accord- 
ingly, the great resort of the Clerical Pretendientes. 
Letters of introduction to some of the Camaristas 



330 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



were considered the most indispensable provision 
for the Madrid journey; and no West Indian slave 
was ever so dependent on the nod of his master, as 
these parasites were on the humours of the whole 
family of the Privy Counsellor, where each had the 
happiness to be received as a constant visiter. 
There he might be seen in the morning relieving 
the ennui of the lady of the house ; who, from the 
late period of life at whicri judges are promoted to a 
place in the King's Council, are themselves of the 
age which we call canonical ; and there he was sure 
to be found in the evening making one at the game 
of Mediator, without which her ladyship would be 
more restless and unhappy than if she had missed 
her supper. In this Egyptian bondage the clerical 
aspirant would pass three or four years of his life, 
till his patron was willing and able to obtain for him 
the first place in the list of three candidates presented 
to the King at each vacancy, when the happy man 
quitted the Court for some cathedral, there quietly 
to enjoy the fruits of his patience and perseve- 
rance. 

The road to preferment is, at present, more in- 
tricate and uncertain. I know a few who have 
been promoted in consequence of having assisted 
the Government with their pens. Such is the case 
of a clergyman, whose work against the privileges 
of the province of Biscay was the prelude to the 
repeal of its ancient charters under the Prince of the 
Peace : such is that of a learned sycophant who has 
lately given us a National Cathechism, in imitation 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



331 



of one published by Napoleon after his accession to 
the throne of France, setting forth the divine right 
of Kings., and the duty of passive obedience. But 
the despotism which crushes us, is too pampered 
and overgrown to require the assistance of pensioned 
scribblers. There was a period when the Prince of 
the Peace was pleased to see his name in verse ; 
but crowds of sonnetteers showered so profusely 
their praises upon him, that he has grown insensi- 
ble to the voice of the Muses. He, now and then, 
rewards some of his clerical courtiers, with a re- 
commendation to the minister, which amounts to a 
positive order ; but seems rather shy of meddling 
with such paltry concerns. It is the Queen who 
has, of late, taken possession of the keys of the 
church, which she commits into the hands of her 
first lady of the bed-chamber, allowing her to levy 
a toll on such as apply for admittance to the snug 
corners of the establishment. I do not report from 
hearsay. The son of a very respectable Seville 
tradesman, whom I have known all my life, having 
taken orders, became acquainted with a person 
thoroughly conversant with the state of the Court, 
who put him in possession of the secret springs 
which might promote him at once to a prebendal 
stall in the cathedral of his own town. The young 
man had no qualifications but a handsome person, 
and a pretty long purse, of which, however, his 
father had still the strings in his own hands. 
Four thousand dollars, or two years income of 
the prebend, was the market-price then fixed 



332 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

fixed by the lady of the bedchamber ; and though 
the good dull man, the father, was not unwilling 
to lay out the money so evidently to the advantage 
of his son, he had heard something about simony, 
— a word which, together with his natural re- 
luctance to part with his bullion, gave him such 
qualms of conscience as threatened to quash the 
young man's hopes. The latter possessed but a 
very scanty stock of learning, but was not easily 
driven to his wit's end ; and, knowing too well the 
versatile nature of casuistry, proposed a consultation 
of three reverend divines, in order to take their 
opinion as to the lawfulness of the transaction. The 
point being duly debated, it appeared that, since 
the essence of simony is the purchase of spiritual 
things for money, and the interest of the Queen's 
confidant was perfectly wordly and temporal, it 
might conscientiously be bought for the sum at 
which she valued it. The young man, furnished 
with his gold credentials, was a short time ago 
properly introduced to the Queen's female favourite. 
Having attended her evening parties for a short 
time, he has, without farther trouble, been pre- 
sented to the vacant stall at Seville. 

The hardships of a Pretendiente s life, especially 
such as do not centre their views in the church, have 
often furnished the theatre with amusing scenes. 
The Spanish proverbial imprecation — "May you be 
dragged about as a Pretendiente" cannot be felt in its 
full force but by such as, like myself, have lived on 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 333 

terms of intimacy with some of that unfortunate 
race. A scanty supply of money from their fami- 
lies is the only fund on which a young man, in pur- 
suit of a judge's gown, must draw for subsistence, 
for three or four journeys a year to the Sitios, in 
order to attend the Court ; for the court-dress which 
he is obliged to wear almost daily ; and the turns of 
ill-luck at the card-table of his lady patroness. 
What a notion would an Englishman form of our 
degree of refinement, if he was to enter one of the 
lodging-houses at Aranjuez, for instance, and find a 
large paved court surrounded by apartments, each 
filled by a different set of lodgers, with three or four 
wretched beds, and not so many chairs for all fur- 
niture ; here one of the party blacking his shoes ; 
there another darning his stockings ; a third brush- 
ing the court-dress he is to wear at the ministers 
levee ; while a fourth lies still in bed, resting, as 
well as he can, from the last night's ball ! As hack- 
ney coaches are not known either at Madrid or the 
Sitios, there is something both pitiable and ludi- 
crous in the appearance of these judges, intendants, 
and governors in embryo, sallying forth in full 
dress, after their laborious toilet, to pick their way 
through the mud, often casting an anxious look on 
the lace frills and ruffles which, artfully attached to the 
sleeves and waistcoat, might by some untoward acci- 
dent, betray the coarse and discoloured shirt which 
they meant to conceal. Thus they trudge to the palace, 
to walk up and down the galleries for hours, till they 



334 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



have succeeded in making a bow to the minis- 
ter, or any other great personage, on whom their 
hopes depend. Having performed this important 
piece of duty, they retire to a very scanty dinner, 
unless their good stars should put them in the way 
of an invitation. In the afternoon they must make 
their appearance in the public walk, where the 
royal family take a daily airing ; after which, the 
day is closed by the attendance at the Tertulia of 
some great lady, if they be fortunate enough to 
have obtained her leave to pay her this daily tri- 
bute of respect. 

Such as visit Madrid and the Sitios, independent 
of Court favour, may, for a few weeks, find amuse- 
ment in the strangeness of the scene. The Court 
of Spain is, otherwise, too dull, stiff, and formal, to 
become an interesting residence. The only good 
society in the upper ranks is to be found among 
the Corps Diplomatique. The King, wholly occu- 
pied in the chase, and the Queen in her boudoir, 
are, of late, extremely averse to the theatres. Two 
Spanish play-houses are still allowed to be open 
every night ; but the opera has been discontinued 
for several years, merely because it was a daily ren- 
dezvous for the higher classes. So jealous is the 
Queen of fashionable assemblies, that the grandees 
do not venture to admit more than four or five in- 
dividuals to their tertulias ; and scarcely a ball is 
given at Madrid in the course of the year. This, 
however, is never attempted without asking the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 335 

Queen's permission. The Marchioness of Santiago, 
whose evening parties were numerous, and attended 
by the most agreeable and accomplished people in 
the capital, was, a short time since, obliged, by an 
intimation communicated through the police, to 
deny her house to her friends. 

Even bull-fights have been forbidden, and the 
idle population of the metropolis of Spain have 
been left no other source of amusement than col- 
lecting every evening in the extensive walk called 
El Prado, after having lounged away the morning 
about the streets, or basked in the sun, during the 
winter, at the Puerta del Sol, a large space, almost 
surrounded by public buildings. The coffee-rooms 
are, in the cold season, crowded for about an hour 
after dinner, i. e. from three to four in the afternoon, 
and in the early part of the evening ; but the noise, 
and the smoke of the cigars, make these places as 
close and disagreeable as any tap-room in London. 
It would be absurd to expect any kind of rational 
conversation in such places. The most interesting 
topics must be carefully avoided, for fear of the 
combined powers of the police and the Inquisition, 
whose spies are dreaded in all public places. Hence 
the depraved taste which degrades our intercourse 
to an eternal giggling and bantering. 

Our daily resource for society is the house of 
Don Manuel Josef Quintana, a young lawyer, 
whose poetical talents, select reading, and various 
information, place him among the first of our men 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



of letters ; while the kindness of his heart, and the 
lofty and honourable principles of his conduct, 
make him an invaluable friend and most agreeable 
companion. After our evening walk in the Prado, 
we retire to that gentleman's study, where four or 
five others, of similar taste and opinions, meet to 
converse with freedom upon whatever subjects are 
started. The political principles of Quintana and 
his best friends consist in a rooted hatred of the ex- 
isting tyranny, and a great dislike of the prevailing 
influence of the French Emperer over the Spanish 
Court. 

It was in this knot of literary friends that an at- 
tempt to establish a Monthly Magazine originated, 
a short time before my arrival at Madrid. But 
such is the listlessness of the country on every- 
thing relating to literature, such the trammels in 
which the Censors confine the invention of the 
writers, that the publication of the Miscelanea was 
given up in a few months. Few, besides, as our 
men of taste are in number, they have split into 
two parties, who pursue each other with the wea- 
pons of satire and ridicule. 

Moratin, the first of our comic writers — a man 
whose genius, were he free from the prejudices of 
strict adherence to the Unities, and extreme servi- 
lity to the Aristotelic rules of the drama, might have 
raised our theatre to a decided superiority over the 
rest of Europe, and who, notwithstanding the tram- 
mels in which he exerts his talents, has given us 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



337 



six plays, which for the elegance, the liveliness, and 
the refined graces of the dialogue, as well as the 
variety, the truth, the interest, and comic power of 
the characters, do not yield, in my opinion, to the 
best modern pieces of the French, or the English 
stage — Moratin, I say, may be considered as the 
centre of- one of the small literary parties of this 
capital, while Quintana is the leader of the other. 
Difference of opinion on literary subjects is not, 
however, the source of this division. Moratin and 
his friends have courted the favour of the Prince of 
the Peace, while Quintana has never addressed a 
line to the favourite. This tacit reproach, embit- 
tered, very probably, by others rather too explicit, 
dropped by the independent party, has kindled a 
spirit of enmity among the Court literati, which, 
besides producing a total separation, breaks out in 
satire and invective on the appearance of any com- 
position from the pen of Quintana. 

I have been insensibly led where I cannot avoid 
entering upon the subject of literature, though from 
the nature of these letters, as well as the limits to 
which I am forced to confine them, it was my in- 
tention to pass it over in silence. I shall not, how- 
ever, give you any speculations on so extensive a 
topic, but content myself w T ith making you ac 
quainted with the names which form the scanty 
list of our living poets. 

I have already mentioned Moratin and Quintana. 

I do not know that the former has published any 

z 



338 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



thing besides his plays, or that he has, as yet, 
given a collection of them to the public. I con- 
ceive that some fears of the Inquisitorial censures 
are the cause of this delay. There has, indeed, 
been a time when his play, La Mogigata, or Female 
Devotee, was scarcely allowed to be acted, it being 
believed that, but for the patronage of the Prince of 
the Peace, it would long before have been placed in 
the list of forbidden works. 

Quintana has published a small collection of short 
poems, which deservedly classes him among those 
Spaniards who are just allowed to give a specimen 
of their powers, and shew us the waste of ta- 
lents for which our oppressive system of govern- 
ment is answerable to civilized Europe. He has 
embellished the title-page of his book with an em- 
blematical vignette, where a winged human figure 
is seen chained to the threshold of a gloomy Gothic 
structure, looking up to the Temple of the Muses 
in the attitude of resigned despondency. I should 
not have mentioned this trifling circumstance, 
were it not a fresh proof of the pervading feeling 
under which every aspiring mind among us is 
doomed hopelessly to linger. 

It is not, however, the Gothic structure of our 
national system alone which confines the poetic 
genius of Spain. There is (if I may venture some 
vague conjectures upon a difficult and not yet fairly 
tried subject) a want of flexibility in the Spanish 
language, arising from the great length of most 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



339 



of its words, the little variety of its terminations, 
and the bulkiness of its adverbs, which must for 
ever, I fear, clog its verse. The sound of our best 
poetry is grand a id majestic indeed ; but it requires 
an uncommon skill to subdue and modify that 
sound, so as to relieve the ear and satisfy the mind. 
Since the introduction of the Italian measures 
by Boscan and Garcilaso, at the beginning of the 
sixteenth century, our best poets have been servile 
imitators of Petrarch, and the writers of that school. 
Every Spanish poet has, like the knight of La 
Mancha, thought it his bounden duty to be des- 
perately in love, deriving both his subject and 
his inspiration from a minute dissection of his 
lady. The language, in the mean time, con- 
demned for centuries, from the unexampled slavery 
of our press, to be employed almost exclusively in 
the daily and familiar intercourse of life, has had its 
richest ornaments tarnished and soiled, by the pow- 
erful influence of mental association. Scarcely one 
third of its copious dictionary can be used in digni- 
fied prose, while a very scanty list of words composes 
the whole stock which poetry can use without pro- 
ducing either a sense of disgust or ridicule. In 
spite of these fetters, Quintana's poetical composi- 
tions convey much deep thought and real feeling ; 
and should an unexpected revolution in politics allow 
his mind that freedom, without which the most vi- 
gorous shoots of genius soon sicken and perish, his 
powerful numbers might well inspire his country- 

z2 



340 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



men with that ardent and disinterested love of 
liberty which adds dignity to the amiableness of 
his character. 

The poet who has obtained most popularity in 
our days is Melendez, a lawyer, who, having for 
some time been a professor of polite literature 
at Salamanca, was raised by the Prince of the Peace 
to a place in the Council of Castile, and, not long 
after, rusticated to his former residence, where he 
remains to this day. Melendez is a man of great 
natural talents, improved by more reading and in- 
formation than is commonly found among our men 
of taste. His popularity as a poet, however, was at 
first raised on the very slight and doubtful foundation 
of a collection of Anacreontics, and a few love-poems, 
possessing little more merit than an harmonious lan- 
guage, and a certain elegant simplicity. Melendez, 
in his youth, was deeply infected with the mawkish 
sensibility of the school of Gessner ; and had he not 
by degrees aimed at nobler subjects than his Dove, 
and his Phyllis, a slender progress in the national 
taste of Spain would have been sufficient to con- 
sign his early poems to the toilettes of our town 
shepherdesses. He has, however, in his mature r 
age, added a collection of odes to his pastorals, 
where he shows himself a great master of Spanish 
verse, though still deficient in boldness and origi- 
nality. That he ranks little above the degree of a 
sweet versifier, is more to be attributed to that want 
of freedom which clips the wings of thought in 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



341 



every Spaniard, than to the absence of real genius. 
It is reported that Melendez is employed in a trans- 
lation of Virgil : should he live to complete it, I 
have no doubt it will do honour to our country. 

During the attempt to awaken the Spanish Muse, 
which has been made for the last fifty years, none 
has struck out a fairer path towards her emancipa- 
tion from the affected, stiff, and cumbrous style in 
which she was dressed by our Petrarchists of the 
sixteenth century than a naval officer named Ar- 
riaza. If his admirable command of language, and 
liveliness of fancy, were supported by any depth of 
thought, acquired knowledge, or the least degree 
of real feeling ; the Spaniards would have an ori- 
ginal poet to boast of. 

Few as the names of note are in the poetical 
department, I fear I must be completely silent 
in regard to the branch of eloquence. Years pass 
with us without the publication of any original 
work. A few translations from the French, with 
now and then a sermon, is all the Madrid Gazette 
can muster to fill up its page of advertisements. 
A compilation, entitled El Viagero Universal, and 
the translation of Guthrie's Grammar of Geography, 
are looked upon as efforts both of literary industry 
and commercial enterprise. 

There exist two Royal Academies — one for the 
improvement of the Spanish Language, the other 
for the advancement of National History. Wc owe 
to the former an ill-digested dictionary, with a very 
bad grammar ; and to the latter some valuable dis- 



342 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



courses, and an incomplete geographical and his- 
torical dictionary. Had the Spanish Academy con- 
tinued their early labours, and called in the aid of 
real talent, instead of filling up the list of members 
with titled names, which have made it ridiculous ; 
their Dictionary might, without great difficulty,, 
have been improved into a splendid display of one 
of the richest among modern languages ; and the 
philosophical spirit of the age would have been ap- 
plied to the elucidation of its elements. That Aca- 
demy has published a volume of prize essays and 
poems, the fruits of a very feeble competition, in 
which the poetry partakes largely of the servility of 
imitation to which I have already alluded, and the 
prose is generally stiff and affected. Our style, in 
fact, is, at present, quite unsettled — fluctuating 
between the wordy pomposity of our old writers, 
without their ease, and the epigrammatic concise- 
ness of second-rate French writers, stripped of their 
sprightliness and graces. As long, however, as we 
are condemned to the dead silence in which the 
nation has been kept for centuries, there is little 
chance of fixing any standard of taste for Spanish 
eloquence. Capmany, probably our best living phi- 
lologist and prose writer, insists upon our borrow- 
ing every word and phrase from the authors of the 
sixteenth century, the golden age (as it is called) 
of our literature ; while the Madrid translators seem 
determined tp make the Spanish language a dialect 
of the French — a sort of Patois, unintelligible to 
either nation. The true path certainly lies between 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



343 



both. The greatest part of our language has been 
allowed to become vulgar or obsolete. The lan- 
guages which, during the mental progress of Eu- 
rope, have been made the vehicles and instruments 
of thought, have left ours far behind in the powers 
of abstraction and precision ; and the rich treasure 
which has been allowed to lie buried so long, must 
be re-coined and burnished, before it can be recog- 
nised for sterling currency. It is neither by reject- 
ing as foreign whatever expressions cannot be found 
in the writers under the Austrian dynasty, nor by 
disfiguring our idiom with Gallicisms, that we can 
expect to shape it to our present wants and fashions. 
Our aim should be to think for ourselves in our own 
language — to think, I say, and express our thoughts 
with clearness, force, and precision ; not to imitate 
the mere sound of the empty periods which gene- 
rally swell the pages of the old Spanish writers. 

I do not mean, however, to pester you with a 
dissertation. Wretched as is the present state of 
Spanish literature, it would require a distinct series 
of letters to trace the causes of its decay, to relate 
the vicissitudes it has suffered, and to weigh the 
comparative merits of such as, under the deadening 
influence of the most absolute despotism, are still 
endeavouring to feed the smouldering fire, which, 
but for their efforts, would have long since been ex- 
tinguished. 

You will, I trust, excuse this short digression, in 
the sure hope that I shall resume the usual gossip 
in my next letter. 



344 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN, 



LETTER XII. 

Seville, July 25, 1808. 

Acquainted as you must be with the events 
which; for these last two months, have fixed the eyes 
of Europe on this country, it can give you little 
surprise to find me dating again from my native 
town. I have arrived just in time to witness the 
unbounded joy which the defeat of Dupont's army, 
at Baylen, has diffused over this town. The air re- 
sounds with acclamations, and the deafening clan- 
gour of the Cathedral bells, announces the arrival of 
the victorious General Castanos, who, more sur- 
prised at the triumph of his arms than any one of 
his countrymen, is just arrived to give thanks to 
the body of Saint Ferdinand, and to repose a few 
days under his laurels. 

There is something very melancholy in the wild 
enthusiasm, the overweening confidence, and mad 
boasting which prevail in this town. Lulled into a 
security which threatens instant death to any who 
should dare disturb it with a word of caution, both 
the Junta and the people look on the present war 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



345 



as ended by this single blow ; and while they spend, 
in processions and Te-Deurns, the favourable mo- 
ments when they might advance on Madrid, their 
want of foresight, and utter ignorance of the means 
of retaliation possessed by the enemy, induce them 
loudly to call for the infraction of the capitulation 
which has placed a French army in their power. 
The troops, which the articles agreed upon entitle 
to a conveyance to their own country, are, by the 
effect of popular clamour, to be confined in hulks, 
in the Bay of Cadiz. General Dupont is the only 
individual who, besides being treated with a degree 
of courtesy and respect, which, were it not for the 
rumours afloat, would bring destruction upon the 
Junta ; has been promised a safe retreat into France. 
He is now handsomely lodged in a Dominican 
convent, and attended by a numerous guard of 
honour. The morning after his private arrival, the 
people began to assemble in crowds, and conse- 
quences fatal to the General were dreaded. Several 
members of the Junta, who were early to pay the 
general their respects, and chiefly one Padre Gil,* 
a wild, half-learned monk, whose influence over the 
Sevillian mob is unbounded ; came forward, desir- 
ing the multitude to disperse. Whether truth and 
the urgency of the case forced out a secret, known 
only to the Junta ; or whether it was an artifice of 
the orator, who, among his eccentricities and moun- 

* See Letter X. p. 309. 



346 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



tebank tricks, must be allowed the praise of bold- 
ness in openly condemning the murders of which 
the mob has been guilty ; he asserted in his speech, 
that C( Spain was more indebted to Dupont than 
the people were aware of." These words, uttered 
with a strong and mysterious emphasis, had the de- 
sired effect, and the French general has now only 
to dread the treatment which may await him in 
France, in consequence of his defeat and surrender. 

Having made you acquainted with the only cir- 
cumstances in the last most important event, which 
the public accounts are not likely to mention, I 
shall have done with news — a subject to which I 
feel an unconquerable aversion — and begin my ac- 
count of the limited field of observation in which 
my own movements, since the first approach of the 
present troubles, have placed me. 

The first visible symptom of impending convul- 
sions was the arrest of Ferdinand, then Prince of 
Asturias, by order of his father. My inseparable 
companion, Leandro, had been for some time ac- 
quainted with a favourite of the Prince of the Peace, 
who, being like my friend, addicted to music, had 
often asked us to his amateur parties. On the 
second of last November we were surprised by a 
letter from that gentleman, requesting my friend to 
proceed to the Escurial without delay, on business 
of great importance. As we walked to the Puerta 
del Sol, to procure a one-horse chaise, called Caleza, 
the news of the Prince's arrest was whispered to us, 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



347 



by an acquaintance, whom we met at that winter 
resort of all the Madrid loungers. We consulted 
for a few minutes on the expediency of venturing 
near the Lion's den, when his Majesty was so per- 
fectly out of all temper ; but curiosity and a certain 
love of adventure prevailed, and we set off at a 
round trot for the Escurial. 

The village adjacent to the building bearing that 
name, is one of the meanest in that part of Castille. 
Houses for the accommodation of the King's suite 
have been erected at a short distance from the mo- 
nastic palace, which the royal family divide with 
the numerous community of Hieronymites, to whom 
Philip II. assigned one wing of that magnificent 
structure. But such as, following the Court on 
business, are obliged to take lodgings in the neigh- 
bourhood, must be contented with the most wretch- 
ed hovels. In one of these we found our friend, 
Colonel A., who, though military tutor to the 
youngest of the King's sons, might well have ex- 
changed his room and furniture for such as are 
found in England at the most miserable pot-house. 
My intimacy with Leandro was accepted as an ex- 
cuse for my intrusion, and we were each accommo- 
dated with a truckle-bed, quickly set up in the two 
opposite corners of the Colonel's sitting-room. The 
object of the summons which had occasioned our 
journey, was not long kept a secret. The clergy- 
man who superintended the classical studies of the 
Infante Don Francisco de Paula, was suspected of 



348 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



having assisted the Prince of Asturias in the secret 
application to Buonaparte, which had produced the 
present breach in the royal family. Should the 
proofs of his innocence, which the tutor had pre- 
sented to the King and Queen, fail to re-establish 
him in their good opinion, my friend would be pro- 
posed as a successor, and enter without delay upon 
the duties of the office. The whole business was 
to be decided in the course of the next day. The 
present being the commemoration of the Departed, 
or All-Souls' Day, we wished to visit the church 
during the evening service. On taking leave of 
the Colonel, he cautioned us not to approach that 
part of the building where the Prince was confined 
under a guard, to his own apartments. 

Though this was our first visit to the Escu- 
rial, the disclosure which had just been made to 
my friend, was of too important a nature to leave 
us in a fit mood to enjoy the solemn grandeur of the 
structure to which we were directing our steps, and 
the rude magnificence of the surrounding scene. 
To be placed near one of the members of the royal 
family, when that family had split into two irrecon- 
cileable parties, and to be reckoned among the 
enemies of the heir apparent, was, at once, to 
plunge headlong into the most dangerous vortex of 
Court intrigue which had yet threatened to over- 
whelm the country. To decline the offer, when the 
condidate's name had in all probability received the 
sanction of the Prince of the Peace, was to incur 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



349 



suspicion from those who had arbitrary power in 
their hands. In this awkward dilemma, our most 
flattering prospect was the acquittal of the tutor, 
an event by no means improbable, considering the 
well-known dulness of that grave personage, and 
the hints of the approaching release of the Prince, 
which we had gathered from the Colonel. We 
therefore proposed to divert our thoughts from the 
subject of our fears by contemplating the objects 
before us. 

The Escurial incloses within the circuit of its 
massive and lofty walls, the King's palace, the mo- 
nastery, with a magnificent church, and the Pan- 
theon, or subterranean vault of beautiful marble, 
surrounded with splendid sarcophagi, for the re- 
mains of the Spanish Kings and their families. It 
stands near the top of a rugged mountain, in the 
chain which separates Old from New Castille, and 
by the side of an enormous mass of rock, which 
supplied the architect with materials. It was the 
facility of quarrying the stone where it was to be 
employed, that made the gloomy tyrant, Philip II., 
mark out this wild spot in preference to others, 
equally sequestered and less exposed to the fury of 
the winds, which blow here with incredible vio- 
lence. To have an adequate shelter from the blast, 
an ample passage, well aired and lighted, was con- 
trived by the architect from the palace to the 
village. 

The sullen aspect of the building ; the bleak and 



350 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



rude mountain top, near which it stands more in 
rivalry than contrast ; the wild and extensive glen 
opening below, covered with woods of rugged, 
shapeless, stunted ilex, surrounded by brushwood ; 
the solitude and silence which the evening twilight 
bestowed on the whole scenery, increased to the 
fancy by the shy and retiring manners of a scanty 
population, trained under the alternate awe of the 
Court, and their own immediate lords, the monks, 
— all this, heightened by the breathless expectation 
which the imprisonment of the heir apparent had 
created, and the cautious looks of the few attend- 
ants who had followed the royal family on this oc- 
casion ; impressed us with a vague feeling of insecu- 
rity, which it would be dfficult to express or ana- 
lyze. No one except ourselves and the monks, 
perambulating the aisles with lighted tapers in their 
hands, in order to chant dirges to the memory of 
the founder and benefactors, w T as to be seen within 
the precincts of the temple. The vaults re-echoed 
Our very steps when the chorus of deep voices had 
yielded to the trembling accents of the old priest 
who presided at the ceremony. To skulk in the 
dark, might have excited suspicion, and to come 
within the glare of the monks' tapers, was the sure 
means of raising their unbounded curiosity. We 
soon therefore glided into the cloisters next to the 
church. But, not being well acquainted with the 
locality of the immense and intricate labyrinth 
which the monastery presents to a stranger, the fear 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



351 



of getting upon forbidden ground, or of being 
locked up for the night, induced us to retire to our 
lodgings. 

With the approbation of our hos^ we ventured 
the next morning to apply to the monk, who acts, 
by appointment, as the Cicerone of the monastery, 
for a view of the chief curiosities it contains. He 
allowed us a walk in the magnificent and valuable 
library, which is said to be one of the richest Euro- 
pean treasures of ancient manuscripts — a treasure, 
indeed, which, admidst those mountains, and under 
the control of an illiberal government and a set of 
ignorant, lazy monks, may be said to be hid in the 
earth. The collection of first-rate pictures at the 
Escurial is immense ; and the walls may be said to 
be covered with them. One has only to lounge 
about the numerous cloisters of the Monastery, to 
satiate the most craving appetite for the beauties of 
art. Our guide, however, who took no pleasure in 
going over the same ground for the ten-thousandth 
time, hurried us to the collection of relics, in which 
he seemed to take a never failing delight. I will 
not give you the list of these spiritual treasures. 
It fills up a large board from three to four feet in 
length, and of a proportionate breadth, at the en- 
trance of the choir. Yet I cannot omit that we 
were shewn the body of one of the innocents mas- 
sacred by Herod, and some coagulated milk of the 
Virgin Mary. The monk cast upon us his dark, 
penetrating eyes, as he exhibited these two most 



352 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



curious objects ; — but the air of the Escurial has a 
peculiar power to lengthen and fix the muscles of 
the face. There is, in the same room which con- 
tains the relics, a curious box of a black shining 
wood;, probably ebony, the whole lid of which is 
covered, on the inside, with the" wards of a most 
complicated lock. It is said to have contained the 
secret correspondence of the unfortunate Don Car- 
los, which his unnatural father, Philip II., made 
the pretext for his imprisonment, and probably for 
the violent death which is supposed to have ended 
his misery. 

On returning from the inspection of the Mo- 
nastery, our suspense was relieved by the welcome 
intelligence that the Infante's tutor had been fully 
acquitted. The Prince of Asturias, we were told 
also, had mentioned to the King the names of his 
advisers, and was now released from confinement. 
My friend was too conscious of the danger which, 
in the shape of promotion, had hung over his 
head for some hours, not to rejoice in what many 
would call his disappointment. He had probably 
dallied some moments with ambition ; but, if so, 
he was fortunate enough to perceive that she had 
drawn him to the brink of a precipice. 

The Prince of the Peace had, against his custom, 
remained at Madrid during the Escurial season, 
that he might escape the imputation of promoting 
the unhappy divisions of the royal family. Some- 
thing was rumoured at Madrid of a dismemberment 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 353 

of Portugal intended by Bonaparte, in consequence 
of which Godoy was to obtain an independent so- 
vereignty. This report, originally whispered about 
by the friends of the latter, was completely hushed 
up in a few days ; while, instead of the buoyancy 
of spirits which the prospect of a crown was likely 
to produce in the favourite, care and anxiety were 
observed to lurk in all his words and motions. He 
continued, however, holding his weekly levees ; 
and as the French troops were pouring into the 
Spanish territory, endeavoured to conceal his 
alarm by an air of directing their movements. 
When, however, the French had taken almost vio- 
lent possession of some of our fortresses, and were 
seen advancing to Madrid with Murat at their 
head, there was no farther room for dissimulation. 
Though I had no object at Godoy' s levees but the 
amusement of seeing a splendid assembly, open to 
every male or female who appeared in a decent 
dress ; that idle curiosity happened to take me to 
the last he held at Madrid. He appeared, as usual, 
at the farthest end of a long saloon or gallery, sur- 
rounded by a numerous suite of officers, and ad- 
vanced slowly between the company, who had made 
a way for him in the middle. Such as wished to 
speak to him took care to stand in front, while those 
who, like myself, were content to pay for their 
admission with a bow, kept purposely behind. 
Godoy stood now before the group, of which I 

2 A 



354 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



formed one of the least visible figures, and bowing af- 
fably, as was his manner, said, in a loud voice, " Gen- 
tlemen, the French advance fast upon us ; we must 
be upon our guard, for there is abundance of bad 
faith on their side." It was now evident that Na- 
poleon had cast off the mask under which he was 
hitherto acting ; and such as heard this speech had 
no doubt that the arrival of Izquierdo, Godoy's 
confidential agent at Paris, had at once undeceived 
him ; filling him with shame and vexation at the 
gross artifice to which he had been a dupe. 

This happened about the beginning of March. 
The Court had proceeded to their spring residence 
of Aranjuez, and the Prince of the Peace joined the 
royal family soon after. A visible gloom had, by 
this time, overcast Madrid, arising chiefly from a 
rumour, that it was intended by the King and 
Queen to follow the example of the Portuguese 
family, and make their escape to Mexico. Few 
among the better classes were disposed, from love 
or loyalty, to oppose such a determination. But 
Madrid and the royal Sitios would sink, into insig- 
nificance, were the Court to be removed to a dis- 
tance. The dissolution of the most wretched Go- 
vernment always fills its dependents with conster- 
nation ; and the pampered guards with which the 
pride of Spanish royalty had surrounded the throne, 
could not endure to be levelled, by the absence of 
the sovereign, with the rest of the army. The 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



355 



plan, therefore, of a flight oat of Spain, with the 
ocean at the distance of four hundred miles, was 
perfectly absurd and impracticable. 

The departure of the royal family had, with all 
possible secrecy, been fixed for the 19th of March. 
Measures, however, were taken by Ferdinand's 
friends, on the first appearance of preparations for 
the journey, to defeat the intentions of the King, 
the Queen, and the favourite. Numbers of the 
peasantry were sent to Aranjuez from villages at a 
considerable distance ; and the Spanish foot-guards, 
the Walloons, and the horse-guards engaged to sup- 
port the people. Soon after midnight, before the 
19th, a furious attack was made by the populace on 
the house of the Prince of the Peace, who, leaping 
out of his bed, had scarcely time to escape the knives 
which were struck, in frenzied disappointment, 
where the warmth of the sheets clearly shewed 
how recently he had left them. As the doors were 
carefully guarded, no doubt remained of his being 
still in the house ; and after the slight search which 
could be made by artificial light, it was determined 
to guard all the outlets till the approaching day. 

The alarm soon spread to the royal palace, where 
the Prince's friends, among whom policy had ranged 
at this critical moment, the ministers who owed 
most to Godoy ; hailed, in the King's terror, and 
the Queens anxiety to save the life of her lover, the 
fairest opening for placing Ferdinand on the throne. 
Day-light had enabled the ringleaders to begin the 
2 a 2 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



most active search after the Prince of the Peace ; 
and the certainty of his presence on the spot ren- 
dered his destruction inevitable. It does honour, 
indeed, to the affectionate and humane character 
of Charles,, whatever we may think of his other 
qualities, that he resigned the crown from eager- 
ness to rescue his faithless friend. The King's ab- 
dication was published to the multitude, with whom 
the guards had taken an open and decided part, 
and Ferdinand appeared on horseback to fulfil the 
engagement he had made to his parents of protect- 
ing the favourite from the assassins. The unfortu- 
nate man, after a confinement of more than twelve 
hours, in a recess over the attics of his house, where 
he had lurked, with scarcely any clothing, and in 
absolute want of food and drink, was, if I may cre- 
dit report, compelled by thirst to beg the assist- 
ance of a servant who betrayed him to his pursuers. 
What saved him from falling on the spot, a victim 
to the fierceness of his enemies — whether the de- 
sire of the leaders to inflict upon him a public and 
ignominious death, or some better feelings, of such 
as, at this fearful moment, surrounded his person — 
I am not able to tell. Nor would I deprive the 
new King of whatever claim to genuine humanity 
his conduct on this occasion may have given him. 
I can only state the fact that, under his escort 
Godoy was carried a prisoner to the Horse-guard 
Barracks, not, however, without receiving some 
severe wounds on the way, inflicted by such as 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



To7 



would not miss the honour of fleshing their knives 
on the man whom but a few hours before, they 
would not have ventured to look boldly in the 
face. 

The news of the revolution at Aranjuez had 
spread through the capital by the evening of the 
19th ; and it was but too evident that a storm was 
gathering against the nearest relations of Godoy. 
Night had scarcely come on, when a furious mob 
invaded the house of Don Diego, the favourite's 
younger brother. The ample space which the mag- 
nificent Calle de Alcala leaves at its opening into 
the Prado, of which that house forms a corner, af- 
forded room not only for the operations of the riot- 
ers, but for a multitude of spectators, of whom I 
was one myself. The house having been broken 
into, and found deserted, the whole of the rich fur- 
niture it contained was thrown out at the windows. 
Next came down the very doors, and fixtures of all 
kinds, which, made into an enormous pile with 
tables, bedsteads, chests of drawers, and pianos, 
were soon in a blaze, that, but for the stillness of 
the evening, might have spread to the unoffending 
neighbourhood. Having enjoyed this splendid and 
costly bonfire, the mob ranged themselves in a kind 
of procession, bearing lint-torches, taken from the 
numerous chandlers-shops which are found at Ma- 
drid ; and directed their steps to the house of the 
Prince Franciforte 5 Godoy' s brother-in-law. 

The magistrates, however, had by this time fixed 



358 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



a board on the doors both of that and Godoy's 
own house, giving notice that the property both 
of the favourite and his near relations had been 
confiscated by the new King. This was sufficient 
to turn away the mob from the remaining objects 
of their fury ; and without any farther mischief, 
they were contented with spending the whole night 
in the streets, bearing about lighted torches, and 
drinking at the expense of the wine-retailers, whose 
shops, like your pot-houses, are the common re- 
sort of the vulgar. The riot did not cease with the 
morning. Crowds of men and women paraded the 
streets the whole day, with cries of " Long live 
King Ferdinand ! — Death to Godoy !" The whole 
garrison of Madrid were allured out of their bar- 
racks by bands of women bearing pitchers of wine 
in their hands ; and a procession was seen about 
the streets in the afternoon, where the soldiers, 
mixed with the people, bore in their firelocks the 
palm-branches which, as a protection against light- 
ning, are commonly hung at the windows. Yet, 
amidst this fearful disorder, no insult was offered to 
the many individuals of the higher classes, who 
ventured among the mob. Nothing, however, ap- 
pears to me so creditable to the populace of Ma- 
drid, as their abstaining from pillage at the house 
of Diego Godoy — every article, however valuable, 
was faithfully committed to the flames. 

Murat, with his army, was, during these events, at 
a short distance from Madrid. The plan of putting 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



359 



the royal family to flight had been frustrated by 
the popular commotion at Aranjuez, and the unex- 
pected accession of Ferdinand. But the new King, 
no less than his parents, hastening by professions 
of friendship to court the support of French power, 
Murat proceeded to the Spanish capital, there to 
pursue the course which might be most conducive 
to the views of his sovereign. I saw the entrance 
of the division which was to make the town their 
head-quarters. The rest occupied the environs, 
some in a camp within half a mile, and some in 
the neighbouring villages. The French entered as 
friends, and they cannot say that the inhabitants 
shewed, upon that occasion, the least symptoms of 
hostility. The prominent feeling which might be 
observed in the capital, was a most anxious expecta- 
tion ; but I know several instances of French sol- 
diers relieved by the common people ; and had 
Murat acknowledged Ferdinand VII., he with his 
troops would have been hailed and treated as bro- 
thers. 

The French troops had been but a few days 
at Madrid, when Ferdinand left Aranjuez for his 
capital, where Murat inhabited the magnificent 
house of the Prince of the Peace, within a very 
short distance of the royal palace. From thence he 
encouraged the young King's hopes of a speedy re- 
cognition by the Emperor, excusing himself, at the 
same time, for taking no notice of Ferdinand's 
approach and presence, either by himself or his 



360 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



troops. Without any other display but that of the 
most enthusiastic applause from the multitude. 
Ferdinand, on horseback, and attended by a few- 
guards, appeared at the gate of Atocha. I had 
placed myself near the entrance, and had a full 
view of him, as, surrounded by the people on foot, 
he moved on slowly, up the beautiful walk called 
El Prado. Never did monarch meet with a more 
loyal and affectionate welcome from his subjects ; 
yet, never did subjects behold a more vacant and 
unmeaning countenance, even among the long faces 
of the Spanish Bourbons. To features not at all 
prepossessing, either shyness or awkwardness had 
added a stiffness, which, but for the motion of 
the body, might induce a suspicion that we were 
wasting our greetings on a wax figure. 

As if for the sake of contrast, Murat, whose 
handsome figure on horseback was shewn to the 
greatest advantage by a dress almost theatrical, ap- 
peared every Sunday morning in the Prado, sur- 
rounded by generals and aid-de-camps, no less 
splendidly accoutred, there to review the picked 
troops of his army. Numbers of people were 
drawn at first by the striking magnificence of this 
martial spectacle ; but jealousy and distrust were 
fast succeeding to the suspense and doubt which 
the artful evasions of the French Prince had been 
able to keep up for a time. 

The first burst of indignation against the French 
was caused by their interference in favour of the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



361 



Prince of the Peace. The people of Madrid were 
so eager for the public execution of Godoy, that 
when it was known that the man on whose hanging 
carcase they daily expected to feast their eyes, was 
proceeding out of the kingdom under a French 
escort ; loud and fierce murmurs from all quarters of 
the town announced the bitter resentment of disap- 
pointed revenge. It was, nevertheless, still in the 
power of Napoleon to have kept the whole nation at 
his devotion, by making the long-expected recogni- 
tion of Ferdinand. Even when, through the un- 
worthy artifices which are already known to the 
world, Ferdinand had been decoyed to Bayonne, 
and the greatest anxiety prevailed at Madrid as to 
the result of the journey, I witnessed the joy of an 
immense multitude collected at the Puerta del Sol, 
late in the evening, when, probably with a view to 
disperse them, the report was spread that the cou- 
rier we had seen arrive, brought the intelligence of 
Napoleon s acknowledgement of the young King, 
and his determination to adopt him by marriage into 
his own family. The truth, however, could not be 
concealed any longer ; and the plan of usurpation, 
which was disclosed the next morning, produced the 
clearest indications of an inevitable catastrophe. 

The wildest schemes for the destruction of the 
French division at Madrid were canvassed almost in 
public, and with very little reserve. Nothing in- 
deed so completely betrays our present ignorance as 
to the power and efficiency of regular troops, as the 



362 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



projects which were circulated in the capital for an 
attack on the French corps, which still paraded 
every Sunday morning in the Prado. Short pikes, 
headed with a sharp-cutting crescent, were ex- 
pected to be distributed to the spectators, who used 
to range themselves behind the cavalry. At one 
signal the horses were to be houghed with these 
instruments, and the infantry attacked with po- 
niards. To remonstrate against such absurd and 
visionary plans, or to caution their advocates against 
an unreserved display of hostile views, which, of 
itself, would be enough to defeat the ablest conspi- 
racy ; was not only useless, but dangerous. The 
public ferment grew rapidly, and Murat, who was 
fully apprised of its progress, began to shew his in- 
tention of anticipating resistance. 

One Sunday afternoon, towards the end of April, 
as I was walking with a friend in the extensive gar- 
dens of the old royal palace El Retiro, (which, 
as they adjoin the Prado, are the usual resort of 
such as wish to avoid a crowded walk,) the sound of 
drums beating to arms from several quarters of the 
town, drew us, not without trepidation, to the inner 
gate of the large square, through which lay our 
way out of the palace. The confused voices of 
men, and the more distinct cries of the women, to- 
gether with the view of two French regiments 
drawn up in the square, and in the act of loading 
their muskets, would have placed us in the awkward 
dilemma whether to venture out, or to stay, we 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



363 



knew not how long, in the solitary gardens ; had 
not a French officer, whom I addressed, assured us 
that we might pass in front of the troops without 
molestation. The Prado, which we had left 
thronged with people, was now perfectly empty, 
except where some horse-patroles of the French 
were scudding away in different directions. As we 
proceeded towards the centre of the town, we were 
told that the alarm had been simultaneous and ge- 
neral. Parties of French cavalry had been scouring 
the streets ; and, in the wantonness of military 
insolence, some soldiers had made a cut now and 
then at such as did not fly fast enough before them. 
The street-doors were, contrary to the usual prac- 
tice, all shut as in the dead of night, and but 
a few groups of men were seen talking about the 
recent and now subsiding alarm. Among these we 
saw one shewing his hat cut through by the 
sabre of a French dragoon. No one could either 
learn or guess the cause of this affray ; but I am 
fully convinced that it was intended just to strike 
fear into the people, and to discourage large meet- 
ings at the public walks. It was a prelude to the 
second of May — that day which has heaped the 
curses of every Spaniard on the head which could 
plan its horrors, and the heart that could carry 
them through to the last, without shrinking. 

The insurrection of the second of May did not 
arise from any concerted plan of the Spaniards ; it 
was, on the contrary^ brought about by Murat, 



354 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



who, wishing to intimidate the country, artfully 
contrived the means of producing an explosion 
in the capital. The old Kings brother and one of 
his sons, who had been left at Madrid, were, on 
that day, to start for Bayonne. The sight of the 
last members of the royal family leaving the coun- 
try, under the present circumstances, could not 
but produce a strong sensation on a people whose 
feelings had for some months been racked to dis- 
traction. The Council of Regency strongly re- 
commended the Infante's departure in the night ; 
but Murat insisted on their setting off at nine 
in the morning. Long before that hour an exten- 
sive square, of which the new Palace forms the 
front, was crowded with people of the lower 
classes. On the Princes appearing in their tra - 
velling dresses, both men and women surrounded 
the carriages, and cutting the traces, shewed a de- 
termination to prevent their departure. One of 
Murat's aid-de-camps presenting himself at this 
moment, was instantly assaulted by the mob, and 
he would have fallen a victim to their fury but for 
the strong French guard stationed near that gene- 
ral's house. This guard was instantly drawn up, 
and ordered to fire on the people. 

My house stood not far from the Palace, in a 
street leading to one of the central points of com- 
munication with the best part of the town. A rush 
of people crying 66 To arms," conveyed to us the 
first notice of the tumult. I heard that the French 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



365 



troops were firing on the people; but the outrage 
appeared to me both so impolitic and enormous, 
that I could not rest until I went out to ascertain 
the truth. I had just arrived at an opening named 
Plazuela de Santo Domingo, the meeting point of 
four large streets, one of which leads to the Palace, 
when, hearing the sound of a French drum in that 
direction, I stopped with a considerable number of 
decent and quiet people, whom curiosity kept rivet- 
ted to the spot. Though a strong piquet of infan- 
try was fast advancing upon us, we could not ima- 
gine that we stood in any kind of danger. Under 
this mistaken notion we awaited their approach ; 
but, seeing the soldiers halt and prepare their arms, 
we began instantly to disperse. A discharge of 
musketry followed in a few moments, and a man 
fell at the entrance of the street, through which I 
was, with a great throng, retreating from the fire. 
The fear of an indiscriminate massacre arose so na- 
turally from this unprovoked assault, that every one 
tried to look for safety in the narrow cross streets 
on both sides of the way. I hastened on towards 
my house, and having shut the front door, could 
think of no better expedient, in the confused state 
of my mind, than to make ball-cartridges for a 
fowling-piece which I kept. The firing of musketry 
continued, and was to be heard in different direc- 
tions. After the lapse of a few minutes, the report 
of large pieces of ordnance, at a short distance, 
greatly increased our alarm. They were fired from 



366 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



a park of artillery, which, in great neglect, and with 
no definite object, was kept by the Spanish Govern- 
ment, in that part of the town. Murat, who had 
this day all his troops under arms, on fixing the 
points of which they were to gain possession, had 
not forgotten the park of artillery. A strong column 
approached it through a street facing the gate, at 
which Colonel Daoiz, a native of my town, and my 
own acquaintance, who happened to be the senior 
officer on duty, had placed two large pieces loaded 
with grape shot. Determined to perish rather than 
yield to the invaders, and supported in his deter- 
mination by a few artillery-men, and some infantry 
under the command of Belarde, another patriot 
officer ; he made considerable havock among the 
French, till, overpowered by numbers, both these 
gallant defenders of their country fell, the latter 
dead, the former desperately wounded. The silence 
of the guns made us suspect that the artillery had 
fallen into the hands of the assailants ; and the re- 
port of some stragglers confirmed that conjecture. 

A well-dressed man had, in the mean time, gone 
down the street, calling loudly on the male inha- 
bitants to repair to an old depot of arms. But he 
made no impression on that part of the town. To 
attempt to arm the multitude at this moment was, 
in truth, little short of madness. Soon after the 
beginning of the tumult, two or three columns of 
infantry entered by different gates, making them- 
selves masters of the town. The route of the main 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



367 



corps lay through the Calk Mayor, where the 
houses, consisting of four or five stories, afforded 
the inhabitants the means of wreaking their ven- 
geance on the French, without much danger from 
their arms. Such as had guns, fired from the win- 
dows ; while tiles, bricks, and heavy articles of fur- 
niture, were thrown by others upon the heads of 
the soldiers. But, now, the French had occupied 
every central position ; their artillery had struck 
panic into the confused multitude ; some of the 
houses, from which they had been fired at, had 
been entered by the soldiers ; and the cavalry were 
making prisoners among such as had not early 
taken to flight. As the people had put to death 
every French soldier, who was found unarmed about 
the streets, the retaliation would have been fearful, 
had not some of the chief Spanish magistrates ob- 
tained a decree of amnesty, which they read in the 
most disturbed parts of the town. 

But Murat thought he had not accomplished his 
object, unless an example was made on a certain 
number of the lower classes of citizens. As the 
amnesty excluded any that should be found bearing 
arms, the French patroles of cavalry, which were 
scouring the streets, searched every man they met, 
and making the clasp knives which our artisans and 
labourers are accustomed to carry in their pockets, 
a pretext for their cruel and wicked purpose, led 
about one hundred men to be tried by a Court 
Martial ; in other words, to be butchered in cold 



368 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



blood. This horrid deed, the blackest, perhaps, 
which has stained the French name during their 
whole career of conquest, was performed at the fall 
of day. A mock tribunal of French officers having 
ascertained that no person of note was among the 
destined victims, ordered them to be led out of the 
Retiro, the place of their short confinement, into 
the Prado ; where they were despatched by the 
soldiers. 

Ignorant of the real state of the town, and hear- 
ing that the tumult had ceased, I ventured out in 
the afternoon towards the Puerta del Sol, where I 
expected to learn some particulars of the day. The 
cross streets which led to that place were unusu- 
ally empty ; but as I came to the entrance of one 
of the avenues which open into that great rendez- 
vous of Madrid, the bustle increased, and I could 
see an advanced guard of French soldiers formed 
two-deep, across the street, and leaving about one- 
third of its breadth open to such as wished to pass 
up and down. At some distance behind them, in 
the irregular square which bears the name of the 
Suns Gate, I distinguished two pieces of cannon, 
and a very strong division of troops. Less than 
this hostile display would have been sufficient to 
check my curiosity, if, still possessed with the idea 
that it was not the interest of the French to treat 
us like enemies, I had not, like many others who 
were on the same spot, thought that the peaceful 
inhabitants would be allowed to proceed unmo- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



369 



tested about the streets of the town. Under this 
impression I went on without hesitation, till I was 
within fifty yards of the advanced guard. Here a 
sudden cry of auoo amies, raised in the square, was 
repeated by the soldiers before me ; the officer giving 
the command to make ready. The people fled up 
the street in the utmost consternation ; but my fear 
having allowed me, instantly, to calculate both 
distances and danger, I made a desperate push 
towards the opening left by the soldiers, where a 
narrow lane, winding round the Church of San Luis, 
put me in a few seconds out of the range of the 
French muskets. No firing however being heard, 
I concluded that the object of the alarm was to clear 
the streets at the approach of night. 

The increasing horror of the inhabitants, as they 
collected the melancholy details of the morning, 
would have accomplished that end, without any 
farther effort on the part of the oppressors. The 
bodies of some of their victims seen in several 
places ; the wounded that were met about the 
streets ; the visible anguish of such as missed their 
relations ; and the spreading report that many were 
awaiting their fate at the Retiro, so strongly and 
painfully raised the apprehensions of the people, 
that the streets were absolutely deserted long be- 
fore the approach of night. Every street-door was 
locked, and a mournful silence prevailed wherever 
I directed my steps. Full of the most gloomy ideas, 
I was approaching my lodgings by a place called 

2 b 



37Q LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

Postigo de San Martin, when I saw four Spanish 
soldiers bearing a man upon a ladder, the ends of 
which they supported on their shoulders. As they 
passed near me, the ladder being inclined forward, 
from the steepness of the street, I recognized the 
features of my townsman and acquaintance, Daoiz, 
livid with approaching death. He had lain wounded 
since ten in the morning, in the place where he 
fell. He was not quite insensible when I met him. 
The slight motion of his body, and the groan he 
uttered as the inequality of the ground, probably, 
increased his pain, will never be effaced from my 
memory. 

A night passed under such impressions, baffles 
my feeble powers of description. A scene of cruelty 
and treachery exceeding all limits of probability, 
had left our apprehensions to range at large, with 
scarcely any check from the calculations of judg- 
ment. The dead silence of the streets since the 
first approach of night, only broken by the tramp- 
ling of horses which now and then were heard 
passing along in large parties, had something ex- 
ceedingly dismal in a populous town, where we were 
accustomed to an incessant and enlivening bustle. 
The Madrid cries, the loudest and most varied in 
Spain, were missed early next morning; and it 
was ten o'clock before a single street-door had 
been open. Nothing but absolute necessity could 
induce the people to venture out. 

On the third day after the massacre, a note from 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



371 



an intimate friend obliged me to cross the greatest 
part of the town ; but though my way lay through 
the principal streets of Madrid, the number of Spa- 
niards I met, did not literally amount to six. In 
every street and square of any note I found a strong 
guard of French infantry, lying beside their arms 
on the pavement, except the sentinel, who paced up 
and down at a short distance. A feeling of morti- 
fied pride mixed itself with the sense of insecurity 
which I experienced on my approaching these par- 
ties of foreign soldiers, whose presence had made a 
desert of our capital. Gliding by the opposite 
side of the street, I passed them without lifting my 
eyes from the ground. Once I looked straight in 
the face of an inferior officer — a Serjeant I believe, 
wearing the cross of the Legion oVhonneur — who, 
taking it as an insult, loaded me with curses, ac- 
companied with threats and the most abusive lan- 
guage. The Puerta del Sol, that favourite lounge 
of the Madrid people, was now the bivouac of a 
French division of infantry and cavalry, with two 
twelve-pounders facing every leading street. Not 
a shop was open, and not a voice heard but such as 
grated the ear with a foreign accent. 

On my return home, a feeling of deep melan- 
choly had seized upon me, to which the troubles of 
my past life were lighter than a feather in the scale 
of happiness and misery. I confined myself to the 
house for several days, a prey to the most harassing 
anxiety. What course to take in the present crisis. 

2 e 2 



372 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



was a question for which I was not prepared, and 
in which no fact, no conjecture could lead me. My 
friend, the friend for whose sake alone I had chang- 
ed my residence, had a mortal aversion to Seville — 
that town where he could not avoid acting in a de- 
tested capacity.* Some wild visions of freedom 
from his religious fetters, had been playing across 
his troubled mind, while the French approached 
Madrid ; and though he now looked on their con- 
duct with the most decided abhorrence, still he 
could hardly persuade himself to escape from the 
French bayonets, which he seemed to dread less 
than Spanish bigotry. 

But my mind has dwelt too long on a painful 
subject, and I hope you will excuse me if I put off 
the conclusion till another Letter. 

* That of a Catholic Clergyman. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



373 



LETTER XIII. 

Seville, July 30, 1808. 

Whether Murat began to suspect that his cruel 
method of intimidating the capital would rouse the 
provinces into open resistance, or whether (with 
the unsteadiness of purpose which often attends a 
narrow mind, acting more from impulse than judg- 
ment,) he wished to efface the impressions which 
his insolent cruelty had left upon the Spaniards ; he 
soon turned his attention to the restoration of confi- 
dence. The folly, however, of such an endeavour, 
while (independent of the alarm and indignation 
which spread like wildfire over the country,) every 
gate of Madrid was kept by a strong guard of French 
infantry, must have been evident to any one but 
the thoughtless man who directed it The people, it 
is true, ventured again freely out of the houses : 
but the public walks were deserted, and the thea- 
tres left almost entirely to the invaders. 

Yet it was visible that the French had a partv, 
which, though feeble in numbers, contained some 
of the ablest and not a few of the most respectable 



374 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



men at Madrid. Nay, I firmly believe, that had 
not the Spaniards of the middle and higher classes 
been from time immemorial brought up in the 
strictest habits of reserve on public measures, and 
without a sufficient boldness to form and express 
their opinions ; the new French Dynasty would have 
obtained a considerable majority among our gentry. 
In the first place, two-thirds of the above descrip- 
tion hold situations under Government, which they 
would have hoped to preserve by adherence to the 
new rulers. Next, we should consider the impres- 
sion which the last twenty years had left on the think- 
ing part of the community. Under the most pro- 
fligate and despicable Court in Europe, a sense of 
political degradation had been produced among 
such of the Spaniards as were not blinded by a 
nationality of mere instinct. The true source of the 
enthusiasm which appeared on the accession of 
Ferdinand, was joy at the removal of his father ; for 
hopes of a better government, under a young Prince 
of the common stamp, seated on an arbitrary throne, 
musthave been wild and visionary indeed. As for the 
state of dependance on France, which would follow 
the acknowledgement of Joseph Bonaparte, it could 
not be more abject or helpless than under Ferdi- 
nand, had his wishes of a family alliance been 
granted by Napoleon. It cannot be denied that 
indignation at the treatment we have experienced 
strongly urged the nation to revenge; but passion 
is a blind guide, which thinking men will seldom 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. o/5 

trust on political measures. To declare war against 
an army of veterans already in the heart of Spain, 
might be, indeed, an act of sublime patriotism ; but 
was it not, too, a provocation more likely to bring 
ruin and permanent slavery on the country, than 
the admission of a new King, who, though a 
foreigner, had not been educated a despot, and who, 
for want of any constitutional claims, would be an- 
xious to ground his rights on the acknowledgment 
of the nation ? 

Answers innumerable might be given to these 
arguments — and that I was far from allowing them 
great weight on my mind I can clearly prove, by 
my presence in the capital of Andalusia. But I 
cannot endure that blind, headlong, unhesitating 
patriotism which I find uniformly displayed in this 
town and province — -a loud popular cry which every 
individual is afraid not to swell with his whole 
might, and which, though it may express the feel- 
ing of a great majority, does not deserve the name 
of public opinion, any more than the unanimous ac- 
clamations at an Auto da Fe. Dissent is the great 
characteristic of liberty. I am, indeed, as willing 
as any man to give my feeble aid to the Spanish 
cause against France ; but I feel indignant at the 
compulsion which deprives my views of all indivi- 
duality — which, from the national habits of implicit 
submission to whatever happens to be established, 
forces every man into the crowd, so that nothing 



376 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



can save him but running for his life with the fore- 
most. 

I repeat^ that I need not an apology for my poli- 
tical conduct on this momentous accasion. Feelings 
which will, indeed, bear examination, but on which 
I ground no merit, have brought me to the more ho- 
nourable side of the question. Yet I must plead for 
candour and humanity in favour of such as, from the 
influence of the views I have touched upon, and in 
some cases, with a more upright intention than many 
an outrageous patriot, have opposed the beginning of 
hostilities. The name of traitor, with which they 
have been indiscriminately branded, must cut them 
off irrevocably from our party ; and even the fear 
of being too late to avoid suspicion among us, may 
oblige those whom chance or . the watchfulness of 
the Madrid Government, has hitherto prevented 
from joining us, to make at last, common interest 
with the French. 

To escape from Madrid, after the news of the in- 
surrection of Andalusia had reached that capital, 
was, in fact, an undertaking of considerable diffi- 
culty, and, as I have found by experience, attended 
with no small danger. Dupont's army had occu- 
pied the usual road through La Mancha, and no 
carriages were allowed by the French to set off for 
the refractory provinces. My decision, however, 
to join, my countrymen, had been formed as soon as 
they took up arms against the French ; and though 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



377 



my friend shuddered at the idea of casting his lot 
with the defenders of the Pope and the Inquisition, 
he soon forgot all personal interest, in a question 
between a foreign army and his own natural 
friends. 

There were no means of reaching Andalusia but 
through the province of Estremadura, and no other 
conveyance, at that time, than two Aragonese wag- 
gons, which having stopped at a small inn, or venta, 
three miles from Madrid, were not under the im- 
mediate control of the French police. The atten- 
tion of the new Government was, besides, too much 
divided by the increasing difficulties of their situa- 
tion, to extend itself beyond the gates of the town. 
We had only to make our way through the French 
guard, and walk to the venta on the day appointed 
by the waggoners. But if a single person met with 
no impediment at the gates, luggage of any des- 
cription was sure to be intercepted ; and we had to 
take our choice between staying, or travelling a 
fortnight, without more than a shirt in our pocket. 

Thus lightly accoutred, however, we left Madrid 
at three in the afternoon of the 15th of June, and 
walked under a burning sun to meet our waggons. 
Summer is, of all seasons, in Spain, the most incon- 
venient for travellers ; and nothing but necessity 
will induce the natives to cross the burning plains, 
which abound in the country. To avoid the 
fierceness of the sun, the coaches start between 
three and four in the morning, stop from nine till 



378 LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 

four in the afternoon, and complete the day's jour- 
ney between nine and ten in the evening. We, 
alas ! could not expect that indulgence. Each of 
us confined with our respective waggoner, within 
the small space which the load had left near the 
awning, had to endure the intolerable closeness of 
the waggon, under the dead stillness of a burning 
atmosphere, so impregnated with floating dust, as 
often to produce a feeling of suffocation. Our 
stages required not only early rising, but travelling 
till noon. After a disgusting dinner at the most 
miserable inns of the unfrequented road we were 
following, our task began again, till night, when 
we could rarely expect the enjoyment even of such 
a bed as the Spanish ventas afford. Our stock of 
linen allowed us but one change, and we could not 
stop to have it washed. The consequences might 
be easily foreseen. The heat, and the company of 
our waggoners, who often passed the night by our 
side, soon completed our wretchedness, by giving 
us a sample of one, perhaps the worst, of the Egyp- 
tian plagues ; which, as we had not yet got through 
one-half of our journey, held out a sad prospect of 
increase till our arrival at Seville. 

There was something so cheering in the consci- 
ousness of the sacrifice both of ease and private 
views we were making, in the idea of relieving our 
friends from the anxiety in which the fear of our 
joining the French party must have kept them — in 
the hopes of being received with open arms by 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



379 



those with whom we had made common interest at 
a time when every chance seemed to be against 
them — that our state of utter discomfort could not 
at first make any impression on our spirits. The 
slip of New Castille, which lies between Madrid 
and the frontiers of Estremadura, presented nothing 
that could in the least disturb these agreeable im- 
pressions ; and the reception we met with from the 
inhabitants was in every respect as friendly as we 
had expected. An instance of simple unaffected 
kindness shewn to us by a poor woman near Mos- 
toles, would hardly deserve being mentioned, but 
for the painful contrast by which the rest of our 
journey has endeared it to my memory. — Oppressed 
by the heat and closeness of our situation, and pre- 
ferring a direct exposure to the rays of the sun in 
the open air, we had left our heavy vehicles at some 
distance, when the desire of enjoying a more re- 
freshing draught than could be obtained from the 
heated jars which hung by the side of our waggons, 
induced us to approach a cottage, at a short dis- 
tance from the road. A poor woman sat alone 
near the door, and though there was nothing in our 
dress that could give us even the appearance of gen- 
tlemen, she answered our request for a glass of wa- 
ter, by eagerly pressing us to sit and rest ourselves. 
" Water," she said, cc in the state I see you in, is 
sure, Gentlemen, to do you harm. I fortunately 
have some milk in the cottage, and must beg you to 
accept it. — You, dear Sirs," she added, " are, I 



380 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



know, making your escape from the French at Ma- 
drid. God bless you, and prosper your journey H 
Her sympathy was so truly affecting, that it ac- 
tually brought tears into our eyes. To decline the 
offer of the milk, as well as to speak of payment, 
would have been an affront to the kind-hearted fe- 
male ; and giving her back the blessing she had so 
cordially bestowed upon us, was all we could do to 
shew our gratitude. 

Cheered up by this humble, yet hearty welcome 
among our countrymen, we proceeded for two or 
three days ; our feelings of security increasing all 
the while with the distance from Madrid. It was, 
however, just in that proportion that we were ap- 
proaching danger. We had, about nine in the 
morning, reached the Calzada de Oropesa, on the 
borders of Estremadura, when we observed, with 
painful surprise, a crowd of country people, who, 
collecting hastily round us, began to inquire who we 
were, accompanying their questions with the fierce 
and rude tone which forebodes mischief, among 
the testy inhabitants of our southern provinces. 
The Alcalde soon presented himself, and, having 
heard the account we gave of ourselves and our 
journey, wisely declared to the people that, our 
language being genuine Spanish, we might be al- 
lowed to proceed. He added, however, a word of 
advice, desiring us to be prepared to meet with 
people more inquisitive and suspicious than those of 
Oropesa, who would make us pay dear for any flaw 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



they might discover in our narrative. As if to try 
our veracity by means of intimidation, he acquaint- 
ed us with the insurrections which had taken place 
in every town and village, and the victims which 
had scarcely failed in any instance, to fall under the 
knives of the peasantry. 

The truth and accuracy of this warning became 
more and more evident as we advanced through 
Estremadura. The notice we attracted at the ap- 
proach of every village, the threats of the labourers 
whom we met near the road, and the accounts we 
heard at every inn, fully convinced us that we 
could not reach our journey's end without consider- 
able danger. The unfortunate propensity to shed 
blood, which tarnishes many a noble quality in the 
southern Spaniards, had been indulged in most 
towns of any note, under the cloak of patriotism. 
Frenchmen, of course, though long established in 
Spain, were pointed objects of the popular fury ; 
but most of the murders which we heard of, were 
committed on Spaniards who, probably, owed their 
fate to private pique and revenge, and not to politi- 
cal opinions. We found the Alcaldes and Corregi- 
dores, to whom we applied for protection, perfectly 
intimidated, and fearing the consequences of any at- 
tempt to check the blind fury of the people under 
them. But no description of mine can give so clear 
a view of the state of the country, as the simple 
narrative of the popular rising at Almaraz, the little 



382 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



town which gives its name to a well-known bridge 
on the Tagus, as it was delivered to us by the Al- 
calde, a rich farmer of that place. The people of 
his district, upon hearing the accounts from Ma- 
drid, and the insurrections of the chief towns of 
their province, flocked, on a certain day, before the 
Alcalde's house, armed with whatever weapons they 
had been able to collect, including sickles, pick- 
axes, and similar implements of husbandry. Most 
happily for the worthy magistrate, the insurgents 
had no complaint against him : and on the ap- 
proach of the rustic mob, he confidently came out 
to meet them. Having with no small difficulty ob- 
tained a hearing, the Alcalde desired to be informed 
of their designs and wishes. The answer appears 
to me unparalleled in the history of mobs. " We 
wish, Sir, to kill somebody," said the spokesman of 
the insurgents. " Some one has been killed at 
Truxillo ; one or two others at Badajoz, another at 
Merida, and we will not be behind our neighbours. 
Sir, we will kill a traitor." As this commodity 
could not be procured in the village, it was fortu- 
nate for us that we did not make our appearance at 
a time when the good people of Almaraz might 
have made us a substitute, on whom to display their 
loyalty. The fact, however, of their having no ani- 
mosities to indulge under the mask of patriotism, is 
a creditable circumstance in their character. A 
meeting which we had, soon after leaving the vil- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



383 



lage, with an armed party of these patriots, con- 
firmed our opinion that they were among the least 
savage of their province. 

The bridge of Almaraz stands at the distance of 
between three and four miles from the village. It 
was built in the time of Charles the fifth; by the 
town of Plasencia ; but it would not have disgraced 
an ancient Roman architect. The Tagus, carryings 
even at this season, a prodigious quantity of water, 
passes under the greater of the two arches, which 
support the bridge. Though the height and span 
of these arches give to the whole an air of boldness 
which borders upon grandeur, the want of symme- 
try in their size and shape, and the narrow, though 
very deep, channel to which the rocky banks con- 
fine the river, abate considerably the effect it might 
have been made to produce. Yet there is something 
impressive in a bold work of art standing single in 
a wild tract of country, where neither great towns, 
nor a numerous and well distributed population, 
with all the attending marks of industry, luxury, 
and refinement, have prepared the imagination to 
expect it. As soon, therefore, as the bridge was 
seen at a distance, we left the waggons, and allow- 
ing them to proceed before us, lingered to enjoy 
the view. 

J ust as we stood admiring the solidity and mag- 
nitude of the structure, casting by chance our eyes 
towards the mountain which rises on the opposite 
side, and confines the road to a narrow space on the 



384 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



precipitous bank of the river, we saw a band of from 
fifteen to twenty men, armed with guns, leaving the 
wood where they had been concealed, and coming 
down towards the waggons. The character of the 
place, combined with the dresses, arms, and move- 
ments of the men, convinced us at once that we had 
fallen into the hands of banditti. But as they could 
take very little from us, we thought we should meet 
with milder treatment if we approached them with- 
out any signs of fear. On our coming up to the 
place, we observed some of the party searching the 
waggons ; but seeing the rest talking quietly with 
the carriers, our suspicions of robbery were at an 
end. The whole band, we found, consisted of pea- 
sants, who, upon an absurd report that the French 
intended to send arms and ammunition to the fron- 
tiers of Portugal, had been stationed on that spot to 
examine every cart and waggon, and stop all sus- 
picious persons. Had these people been less good- 
natured and civil, we could not have escaped being 
sent, in that dangerous character, to some of the 
Juntas which had been established in Spain. But 
being told by my friend that he was a clergyman, 
and hearing us curse the French in a true patriotic 
style ; they wished us a happy journey, and allowed 
us to proceed unmolested. 

We expected to arrive at Merida on a Saturday 
evening, and to have left it early on Sunday after 
the first mass, which, for the benefit of travellers 
and labourers, is performed before dawn. But the 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 385 

axletree of one of our waggons breaking down, we 
were obliged to sleep that night at a Venta, and to 
spend the next day in the above-mentioned city. 
The remarkable ruins which still shew the ancient 
splendour of the Roman Emerita Augusta would, 
in more tranquil times, have afforded us a pleasant 
walk round the town, and more than repaid us for 
the delay. Fatigue, however, induced us to confine 
ourselves to the inn, where we expected, by the re- 
pose of one day, to recruit our strength for the 
rest of our journey. Having taken a luncheon, we 
retired to our beds for a long siesta, when the noise 
of a mob rushing down the street and gathering in 
front of the inn, drew us, nearly undressed, to the 
window. As far as the eye could reach, nothing 
was to be seen but a compact crowd of peasants, 
most of them with clasp knives in their hands. 
At the sight of us, such as were near began to 
brandish their weapons, threatening they would 
make mince-meat of every Frenchman in the inn. 
Unable to comprehend the cause of this tumult, 
and fearing the consequences of the blind fury 
which prevailed in the country, we hurried on our 
clothes, and ran down to the front hall of the inn. 
There we found twelve dragoons standing in two 
lines on the inside of the gate, holding their car- 
bines ready to fire, as the officer who commanded 
them warned the people that were blockading the 
gate they should do upon the first who ventured 
into the house. The innkeeper walked up and 

2 c 



386 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



down the empty hall, bewailing the fate of his 
house, which he assured us would soon be set on 
fire by the mob. We now gathered from him 
the cause of this turmoil and confusion. A young 
Frenchman had been taken on the road to Portugal, 
with letters to Junot, and on this ground was for- 
warded under an escort of soldiers to the Captain- 
general of the Province at Badajoz. The crowd in 
the street consisted of about two thousand peasants, 
who having volunteered their services, were under 
training at the expense of the city. The poor 
prisoner had been imprudently brought into the 
town when the recruits were in the principal 
square indulging in the idleness of a Sunday. On 
hearing that he was a Frenchman, they drew their 
knives and would have cut him to pieces, but for 
the haste which the soldiers made with him towards 
the inn. 

The crowd, by this time, was so fierce and voci- 
ferous, that we could not doubt they would break 
in without delay. My companion, being fully 
aware of our dangerous position, urged me to follow 
him to the gate, in order to obtain a hearing, while 
the people still hesitated to make their way be- 
tween the two lines of soldiers. We approached the 
impenetrable mass ; but before coming within the 
reach of the knives, my friend called loudly to the 
foremost to abstain from doing us any injury ; for 
though without any marks of his profession about 
him, he was a priest, who, with a brother, (point- 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



387 



ing to me 3 ) had made his escape from Madrid to 
join his countrymen. I verily believe, that as fear 
is said sometimes to lend wings, it did on this oc- 
casion prompt my dear friend with words ; for a 
more fluent and animated speech than his has 
seldom been delivered in Spanish. The effects of 
this unusual eloquence were soon visible among 
those of the rioters that stood nearest ; and one of 
the ringleaders assured the orator, that no harm 
was meant against us. On our requesting to leave 
the house, we were allowed to proceed into the 
great square. * 

My friend there inquired the name of the Bi- 
shop's substitute, or Vicar General; and, with an 
agreeable surprise, we learnt that it was Sen or Va- 
lenzuela. We instantly recognised one of our fel- 
low students at the University of Seville. He had 
been elected a Member of the Revolutionary Junta 
of Merida, and though not more confident of his 
influence over the populace than the rest of his col- 
leagues, whom the present mob had reduced to a 
state of visible consternation, he instantly offered 
us his house as an asylum for the night, and engag- 
ed to obtain for us a passport for the remainder of 
the journey. In the mean time, the military com- 
mander of the place, attended by some of the ma- 
gistrates, had promised the crowd to throw the 
young Frenchman into a dungeon, as he had done 
a few nights before with his own adjutant, against 
whom these very same recruits had risen on the 

2 c 2 



388 



LETTERS' FROM SPAIN. 



parade, with so murderous a spirit, that though 
protected by a few regulars, they wounded him se- 
verely, and would have taken his life but for the in- 
terference of the Vicar, who, bearing the conse- 
crated host in his hands, placed the officer under 
the protection of that powerful charm. The French- 
man was, accordingly, conducted to prison ; but 
neither the soldiers nor the magistrates, who sur- 
rounded him, could fully protect him from the 
savage fierceness of the peasants, who crowding 
upon him, as half dead with terror, he was slowly 
dragged to the town goal, stuck the points of their 
knives into several parts of his body. Whether he 
finally was sacrificed to the popular fury, or, by 
some happy chance, escaped with life, I have not 
been able to learn. 

Though not far from our journey's end, we were 
by no means relieved from our fears and misgivings. 
Often were we surrounded by bands of reapers, 
who, armed with their sickles, made us go through 
the ordeal of a minute interrogatory. But what 
cast the thickest gloom on our minds was, the de- 
tailed account we received from an Alcalde, of the 
events which had taken place at Seville. A revolu- 
tion, however laudable its object, is seldom without 
some features which nothing but distance of time 
or place, can soften into tolerable regularity. We 
were too well acquainted with the inefficiency of 
most of the men who had suddenly been raised 
into power, not to feel a strong reluctance to place 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



389 



ourselves under their government and protection. 
The only man of talents in the Junta of Seville was 
Saavedra, the ex-minister.* Dull ignorance,, mixed 
with a small portion of inactive honesty, was the 
general character of that body. But a man of 
blood had found a place in it, and we could not but 
fear the repetition of the horrid scene with which 
he opened the revolution that was to give him a 
share in the supreme government of the province. 

The Count Tilly, a titled Andalusian gentleman, 
of some talents, unbounded ambition, and no prin- 
ciple, had, on the first appearance of a general dis- 
position to resist the French, employed himself in 
the organization of the intended revolt. His prin- 
cipal agents were men of low rank, highly endowed 
with the characteristic shrewdness, quickness, and 
loquacity of that class of Andalusians, and thereby 
admirably fitted to appear at the head of the popu- 
lace. Tilly, however, either from the maxim that 
a successful revolution must be cemented with 
blood — a notion which the French Jacobins have 
too widely spread among us — or, what is more pro- 
bable, from private motives of revenge, had made 
the death of the Count del Aguila an essential part 
of his plan. 

That unfortunate man was a member of the town 
corporation of Seville, and as such he joined the 
established authorities in their endeavours to stop 



* See Letter X. 



390 



LETTERS FROM SPATE*. 



the popular ferment. But no sooner had the insur- 
rection burst out. than both he and his colleagues 
made the most absolute surrender of themselves and 
their power into the hands of the people. This, 
however, was not enough to save the victim whom 
Tilly had doomed to fall. One of the inferior 
leaders of the populace, one Luque, an usher at a 
grammar-school, had engaged to procure the death 
of the Count del Aguila. Assisted by his armed 
associates, he dragged the unhappy man to the pri- 
son-room for noblemen, or Hidalgos, which stands 
over one of the gates of the town ; and, deaf to his 
intreaties, the vile assassin had him shot on the 
spot. The corpse, bound to the arm chair, in which 
the Count expired, was exposed for that and the 
next day to the public. The ruffian who performed 
the atrocious deed, was instantly raised to the rank 
of lieutenant in the army. Tilly himself is one of 
the Junta ; and so selfish and narrow are the views 
which prevail in that body, that, if the concentra- 
tion of the now disjointed power of the provinces 
should happen, the members, it is said, will rid 
themselves of his presence, by sending a man they 
fear and detest, to take a share in the supreme 
authority of the kingdom.* 

The effects of the revolutionary success on a 
people at large, like those of slight intoxication on 

* This was actually the case at the creation of the Central 
Junta. 



LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



391 



the individual, call forth every good and bad quality 
in a state of exaggeration. To an acute but indif- 
ferent observer, Seville, as we found it on our return, 
would have been a most interesting study. He 
could not but admire the patriotic energy of the 
inhabitants, their unbounded devotion to the cause 
of their country, and the wonderful effort by w r hich, 
in spite of their passive habits of submission, they 
had ventured to dare both the authority of their 
rulers, and the approaching bayonets of the French = 
He must, however, have looked with pity on the 
multiplied instances of ignorance and superstition 
which the extraordinary circumstances of the coun- 
try had produced. 

To my friend and companion, whose anti-catholic 
prejudices are the main source of his mental suffer- 
ings, the religious character which the revolution 
has assumed, is like a dense mist concealing or dis- 
figuring every object which otherwise would gratify 
his mind. He can see no prospect of liberty be- 
hind the cloud of priests who every where stand 
foremost to take the lead of our patriots. It is in 
vain to remind him that many among those priests, 
whose professional creed he detests, are far from 
being sincere ; that if, by the powerful assistance 
of England, we succeed in driving the French out 
of the country, the moral and political state of the 
nation must benefit by the exertion. The absence 
of the King, also, is a fair opening for the restora- 
tion of our ancient liberties ; and the actual exist- 



APPENDIX to LETTERS III. and VII.* 



AN ACCOUNT 

OF THE 

SUPPRESSION OF THE JESUITS IN SPAIN. 

Extracted from a Letter of Lord . 

The suppression of the Jesuits in Spain always ap- 
peared to me a very extraordinary occurrence; and 
the more I heard of the character of Charles III. by 
whose edict they were expelled, the more singular the 
event appeared. Don Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos, 
who had been acquainted with all, and intimate with 
many, of those who accomplished this object, related se- 
veral curious circumstances attending it ; gave me a very 
interesting and diverting account of the characters con- 
cerned, and sent me, in 1809, two or three letters, which 
are still in my possession, containing some of the secret 

* The account in Letter VII. of the anxiety manifested by Charles 
III. on the occasion of sending to Rome a manuscript in the hand of 
a Spanish simpleton, whom the superstition of that country wished 
to invest with the honours of Saintship, was compiled from local tra- 
dition, and the recollections preserved from a former perusal of the 
present Appendix. Its noble author, whose love of the literature of 
Spain, and great acquaintance with that country, would be enough to 
designate him, were he not best known by a peculiar benevolence of 
heart, which no man ever expressed so faithfully in the affability of 
his manners ; has subsequently favoured the writer of the preceding 
Letters with his permission to publish this sketch. The attentive 
reader will observe some slight variations between my story of Bro- 
ther Sebastian and that given in this Appendix. But as they all re- 
late to circumstances connected with the city of Seville, I am un- 
willing to omit or to alter what I have heard from my townsmen and 
the contemporaries of Sebastian himself. 



396 SUPPRESSION OF THE 

history of this very remarkable transaction. I send you 
the substance of his conversation, with some additional 
anecdotes related to me by other Spaniards. They may 
throw light on the accidents and combinations which led 
to the suppression of that formidable body of men. 

Charles III. came to the throne of Spain with disposi- 
tions very unfavourable to the Jesuits. Not only the dis- 
putes with the Court of Rome, to which the government 
of Naples was at all times exposed, but the personal 
affronts which he conceived himself to have received from 
Father Ravago, the Jesuit, Confessor to his brother Fer- 
dinand, estranged him from that formidable company. 
The jealousy entertained by Barbara, Queen of Spain, of 
any influence which the Court of Naples might obtain in 
the councils of her husband, and the opposite system of 
politics adopted by the two Courts, had convinced the 
Jesuits of the impossibility of being well with both. Not 
foreseeing the premature death of Ferdinand, and the 
sterility of his wife, they had very naturally exerted all 
their arts to ingratiate themselves with the powerful 
crown of Spain, rather than with the less important 
Court of Naples. They were accordingly satisfied with 
placing Padre Ravago about Ferdinand, and, either 
from policy or neglect, allowed Charles to select his 
Confessor from another order of regular clergy. Queen 
Barbara was a patroness of the Jesuits; and, very pos- 
sibly, her favourite, the eunuch Farinelli, exerted his 
influence in their favour. The Marquis of Ensenada, 
long the minister of Ferdinand, was their avowed protec- 
tor, ally, and partizan ; and the Queen's ascendancy over 
her husband's mind was too firmly established to be 
shaken even by the removal of that minister. But upon 
the failure of that Princess, and the subsequent death of 
the King himself, the Jesuits experienced a sudden and 



JESUITS IN SPAIN. 



397 



fatal reverse of fortune. The policy of the Court of 
Madrid was altered. Charles felt deep resentment 
against England for the transactions in the Bay of 
Naples. The influence of the Court of Versailles was 
gradually restored. It may be easily supposed that the 
active enemies of the Jesuits in France and Italy began 
to turn their eyes to the Court of Madrid with more 
hopes of co-operation in that quarter than they had 
hitherto ever ventured to entertain. There is, however, 
no reason to imaoine that till the nomination of Roda, to 
the place of Minister of Grace and Justice, any actual 
design was formed by persons in trust or power, of having 
recourse to such violent expedients as were afterwards 
resorted to for the expulsion of the Jesuits. 

Don Manuel de Roda, an Aragonese by birth, and an 
eminent lawyer at Madrid, had imbibed very early both 
the theological and political tenets of the Jansenists. 
He had been distinguished at the bar by his resolute and 
virulent opposition to the members of the Colegios 
Mayores. That institution, founded for the education 
and assistance of poor students, had been perverted from 
its original intentions : for though no one could be admit- 
ted but upon competition and a plurality of voices, it 
consisted de facto entirely of persons of family. Its 
members, by the aid of exclusive privileges in the career 
of the law, by mutual assistance, and a corporation spirit, 
not unlike that of the Jesuits themselves, had obtained a 
large portion of ecclesiastical and legal patronage, and 
enjoyed almost a monopoly of the highest judicicial offices 
in Castile. The members of these colleges were enabled 
to succeed to the offices of Fiscal, Oydor, and other 
magistracies, without the previous ceremony of passing 
advocates, which was a gradation none but those who 
were Colegiales could dispense with. These privileges 



398 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



gave them great influence, and the expense which at- 
tended their elections, (especially that of the Rectors of 
each College, an annual office of great consideration 
among them,) served as an effectual bar to the preten- 
sions of any who had not birth and wealth to recommend 
them. It is just, however, to observe, that if they were 
infected with the narrow spirit of corporations, they 
retained to the last the high sense of honour which is 
always the boast, and sometimes the characteristic, of 
privileged orders of men. It has ever been acknowledged 
by their enemies, that since the abolition of their exclu- 
sive privileges, which Roda lived to accomplish, and, yet 
more, since their further discouragement by the Prince 
of Peace, the judicial offices have not been filled by 
persons of equal characrer for integrity, learning, and 
honour. But those who studied the laws without the 
advantages of an education at the Colegios Mayores, 
were naturally and justly indignant at the privileges 
which they enjoyed. The boldness of Don Manuel 
de Roda's opposition to an order of men so invidiously 
distinguished, ingratiated him with the lawyers, who, in 
Spain as elsewhere, constitute a large, active, and formid- 
able body of men. But the same high spirit having 
involved him in a dispute with a man of rank and in- 
fluence, his friend and protector the Duke of Alva 
thought it prudent for him to withdraw from Court ; and 
with a view of enabling him to do so with credit to 
himself, entrusted him with a public commission to 
Rome, where he was received as the agent of the King of 
Spain. He here, no doubt, acquired that knowledge 
which was so useful to him afterwards in the prose- 
cution of his important design. By what fatality he 
became minister, I know not. Charles III. must have 
departed from his general rule of appointing every 



JESUITS IN SPAIN. 



399 



Minister at the recommendation of his predecessor, for 
Roda succeeded a Marquis of Campo ViJlar, who had 
been educated at the Colegios Mayores, and was attached 
to the Jesuits. Possibly the interest of the Duke of 
Alva was the cause of his promotion. He was appointed 
Minister of Grace and Justice, I believe, as early as 1763, 
though Jovellanos implies that he was not Minister till 
1765 or even 1766. From the period of his nomination, 
however, one may safely date the design of suppressing 
the Jesuits in Spain. It was systematically, though 
slowly and secretly pursued, by a portion of the Spanish 
Cabinet, Indeed the views, not only of the ministry, 
but of the understanding of Roda, were so exclusively 
directed to such objects, that Azara sarcastically ob- 
served, that he wore spectacles, through one glass of 
which he could perceive nothing but a Colegial, and 
through the other nothing but a Jesuit. If, however, 
his views were contracted, he had the advantage often 
attributed to a short sight — a clear and more accurate 
perception of every thing that came within the limited 
scope of his organs. He had the discernment to dis- 
cover those, who, with dispositions congenial to his own 
had talents to assist him. He had cunning enough to 
devise the means of converting to his purpose the weak- 
nesses of such as without predisposition to co-operate 
with him, were from station or accident necessary to his 
design. Though a strict Jansenist himself, he selected 
his associates and partizans indiscriminately from Janse- 
nists and philosophers or freethinkers. Among the first, 
the most remarkable was Tavira, bishop of Salamanca ; 
among the latter Campomanes and the Count de 
Aranda. 

Before we speak of the co-operation of these powerful 
men, it is necessary to explain the difficulties which oc- 



398 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



gave them great influence, and the expense which at- 
tended their elections, (especially that of the Rectors of 
each College, an annual office of great consideration 
among them,) served as an effectual bar to the preten- 
sions of any who had not birth and wealth to recommend 
them. It is just, however, to observe, that if they were 
infected with the narrow spirit of corporations, they 
retained to the last the high sense of honour which is 
always the boast, and sometimes the characteristic, of 
privileged orders of men. It has ever been acknowledged 
by their enemies, that since the abolition of their exclu- 
sive privileges, which Roda lived to accomplish, and, yet 
more, since their further discouragement by the Prince 
of Peace, the judicial offices have not been filled by 
persons of equal characrer for integrity, learning, and 
honour. But those who studied the laws without the 
advantages of an education at the Colegios Mayores, 
were naturally and justly indignant at the privileges 
which they enjoyed. The boldness of Don Manuel 
de Roda's opposition to an order of men so invidiously 
distinguished, ingratiated him with the lawyers, who, in 
Spain as elsewhere, constitute a large, active, and formid- 
able body of men. But the same high spirit having 
involved him in a dispute with a man of rank and in- 
fluence, his friend and protector the Duke of Alva 
thought it prudent for him to withdraw from Court; and 
with a view of enabling him to do so with credit to 
himself, entrusted him with a public commission to 
Rome, where he was received as the agent of the King of 
Spain. He here, no doubt, acquired that knowledge 
which was so useful to him afterwards in the prose- 
cution of his important design. By what fatality he 
became minister, I know not. Charles III. must have 
departed from his general rule of appointing every 



JESUITS IN SPAIN. 



399 



Minister at the recommendation of his predecessor, for 
Roda succeeded a Marquis of Campo Villar, who had 
been educated at the Colegios Mai/ores, and was attached 
to the Jesuits. Possibly the interest of the Duke of 
Alva was the cause of his promotion. He was appointed 
Minister of Grace and Justice, I believe, as early as 1763, 
though Jovellanos implies that he was not Minister till 
1765 or even 1766. From the period of his nomination, 
however, one may safely date the design of suppressing 
the Jesuits in Spain. It was systematically, though 
slowly and secretly pursued, by a portion of the Spanish 
Cabinet, Indeed the views, not only of the ministry, 
but of the understanding of Roda, were so exclusively 
directed to such objects, that Azara sarcastically ob- 
served, that he wore spectacles, through one glass of 
which he could perceive nothing but a Colegial, and 
through the other nothing but a Jesuit. If, however, 
his views were contracted, he had the advantage often 
attributed to a short sight — a clear and more accurate 
perception of every thing that came within the limited 
scope of his organs. He had the discernment to dis- 
cover those, who, with dispositions congenial to his own 
had talents to assist him. He had cunning enough to 
devise the means of converting to his purpose the weak- 
nesses of such as without predisposition to co-operate 
with him, were from station or accident necessary to his 
design. Though a strict Jansenist himself, he selected 
his associates and partizans indiscriminately from Janse- 
nists and philosophers or freethinkers. Among the first, 
the most remarkable was Tavira, bishop of Salamanca ; 
among the latter Campomanes and the Count de 
Aranda. 

Before we speak of the co-operation of these powerful 
men, it is necessary to explain the difficulties which oc- 



400 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



curredin securing the sanction and assistance of the King 
himself. Charles III., though no friend to the Jesuits, 
was still less a friend, either by habit or principle, to in- 
novation. He was not less averse by constitution to all 
danger. Moreover, he was religious and conscientious 
in the extreme. The acquiescence and sanction of his 
Confessor was indispensably necessary to the adoption 
of any measure affecting the interests of the Church. 
Neither would the bare consent of the Confessor (in it_ 
self no easy matter to obtain) be sufficient. He must be 
zealous in the cause, and cautious as well as active in the 
promotion of it. Great secresy must be observed; for 
the scheme might be defeated as effectually by indiffer- 
ence or indiscretion as by direct resistance or intrigue. 
There was little in the character of the Confessor to en- 
courage a man less enterprising or less cunning than 
Roda. 

Fr. Joaquin de Elita, or Father Osma, (so called from 
the place of his birth) was a friar of little education and 
less ability, attached by habit to the order to which he 
belonged, and in other respects exempt from those pas- 
sions of affection or ambition, as well as from that ardour 
of temper or force of opinion, which either excite men to 
great undertakings or render them subservient to those 
of others. Roda, however, from personal observation, 
and from an intimate knowledge of those passions which 
a monastic life generally engenders, discovered the means 
of engaging even Father Osma in his views. None who 
have not witnessed it can conceive the effect of institu- 
tions, of which vows of perpetual celibacy form a neces- 
sary part. Their convent, their order, the place of their 
nativity, the village or church to which they belong, 
often engage in the minds of religious men the affections 
which in the course of nature would have been bestowed 



JESUITS IN SPAIN. 



401 



on their kindred, their wives, or their children. Padre 
Elita was born in the city of which the venerable and 
illustrious Palafox had been bishop. The sanctity of 
that eminent prelate's life, the fervour of his devotion, the 
active benevolence and Christian fortitude of his charac- 
ter, had insured hiin the reputation of a saint, and might, 
it was thought, by many Catholics, entitle him to canoni- 
zation.* JRoda, however, well knew that the Jesuits 

* There is a Life of Palafox, published at Paris, in 1767- The 
design of the unknown author is evidently to mortify and prejudice 
the Jesuits by exalting the character of one of their earliest and 
fiercest opponents. The author is, however, either an ardent fanatic 
of the Jansenist party, and as superstitious as those he wishes to ex- 
pose ; or he promotes the cause of the Philosophers of France and 
Spain by affecting devotion, and conciliating many true believers to 
the measure of suppressing the Jesuits. — Palafox was the illegitimate 
child of Don Jayme de Palafox y Mendoza, by a lady of rank, who, 
to conceal her pregnancy, retired to the waters of Fitero in Navarre, 
and being delivered on the 24th June, 1600, to avoid the scandal, 
took the wicked resolution of drowning her child in the neighbouring 
river. The woman employed to perpetrate this murder was detected 
before she effected her purpose, the child saved, and brought up by 
an old dependant of the house of Ariza till he was ten years old, when 
his father returned from Rome, acknowledged, relieved, and educated 
him at Alcala and Salamanca. His mother became a nun of the 
barefooted Carmelite order. Palafox was introduced at Court, and 
to the Count Duke de Olivares in 1626, and was soon after named to 
the council of India. An illness of his paternal sister, the funeral of 
two remarkable men, and the piety of hi3 mother, made such impres- 
sion upon him, that he gave himself up to the most fervent devotion, 
and soon after took orders. He became chaplain to the Queen of 
Hungary, Philip IVth's sister, and travelled through Italy, Germany, 
Flanders, and France. In 1639, he was consecrated Bishop of An- 
gel opolis, or Puebla de los Angeles, in America. His first quarrel 
with the Jesuits was on the subject of tithes. Lands on which 
tithes were payable had been alienated in favour of the Company, 
and they pretended, that when once the property of their body, they 

2 D 



40*2 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



bore great enmity to his memory on account of his dis- 
putes with them in South America; he foresaw that 
every exertion of that powerful body would be made to 
resist the introduction of his name into the Rubric. He 
therefore suggested very adroitly to Father Osma the 
glory which would redound to his native town if this ob- 
ject could be accomplished. He painted in glowing co- 
lours the gratitude he would inspire in Spain, and the 
admiration he would excite in the Catholic world if 
through his means a Spaniard of so illustrious a name 
and of such acknowledged virtue could be actually 
sainted at Rome. He had the satisfastion of finding 
that Father Osma espoused the cause with a fervour 
hardly to be expected from his character. He not only 
advised but instigated and urged the King to support 
the pretensions of the bishop of Osma with all his in- 
fluence and authority. But here an apparent difficulty 
arose, which Rod a turned to advantage, and converted to 
the instrument of involving the Court of Madrid in an 

were exempt from that tax. The second ground was a pretended 
privilege of the Jesuits to preach without the permission of the 
Diocesan, against which Palafox contended. The Jesuits, having 
the Viceroy of New Spain on their side, obliged Palafox to fly $ on 
which occasion he wrote his celebrated letters against his enemies. 
A brief of the Pope in his favour did not prevent his being recalled 
in civil terms, by the King. At the petition of the Jesuits, who 
dreaded his return to America, the King named him to the bishopric 
of Osma. Of the austerity and extravagance of his principles, the 
following resolutions of the pious bishop are specimens : Not to 
admit any woman to his presence, and never to speak to one but 
with his eyes on the ground, and the door open. Never to pay a 
woman a compliment, but when the not doing so would appear sin- 
gular or scandalous j and never to look a female in the face. When 
ever compelled to visit a woman, to wear a cross with sliarp points 
next the skin. 



JESUITS IN SPAIN. 



403 



additional dispute with the Roman Pontiff. Charles III. 
was not unwilling to support the pretensions of his 
Confessor's favourite Saint ; but he had a job of his 
own in that branch to drive with the Court of Rome, 
and he accordingly solicited in his turn the co-opera- 
tion of Father Osma, to obtain the canonization of Bro- 
ther Sebastian. 

The story of this last-mentioned obscure personage is 
so curious, and illustrates so forcibly the singular cha- 
racter of Charles, that it will not be foreign to my pur- 
pose to relate it. 

During Philip the Fifth's residence in Seville, Her- 
mano Sebastian, a sort of lay-brother* of the Convent of 
San Francisco el Grande, was accustomed to visit the 
principal houses of the place with an image of the Infant 
Jesus, in quest of alms for his order. The affected sanc- 
tity of his life, the demure humility of his manner, and 
the little sentences of morality with which he was accus- 
tomed to address the women and children whom he visited, 
acquired him the reputation of a saint in a small circle of 
simple devotees. The good man began to think himself 
inspired, to compose short works of devotion, and even 
to venture occasionally on the character of a prophet. 
Accident or design brought him to the palace : he was 
introduced to the apartments of the princes, and Charles 
then a child, took a prodigious fancy to Brother Sebas- 
tian of the Nino Jesus, as he was generally called in the 
neighbourhood, from the image he carried when solicit- 
ing alms for his convent. To ingratiate himself with the 
royal infant, the old man made Charles a present of some 

* He was not a lay-brother, but a Donado, a species of religious 
drudges, who, without taking vows, wear the habit of the order ; 
and may leave it when they please. The Donados are never called 
Fray, but Hermano. — See Doblado's Letter IX. 

2 d 2 

\ 



404 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



prayers written in his own hand, and told him, with an 
air of sanctified mystery, that he would one day be King 
of Spain, in reward, no doubt, of his early indications of 
piety and resignation. The present delighted Charles, 
and, young as he was, the words and sense of the pro- 
phecy sunk deep in his superstitious and retentive mind. 
Though he was seldom known to mention the circum- 
stance for years, yet he never parted with the manuscript. 
It was his companion by day and by night, at home and 
in the field. When he was up, it was constantly in his 
pocket ; and it was placed under his pillow during his 
hours of rest. But when, by his accession to the crown of 
Spain, its author's prediction was fulfilled, the work ac- 
quired new charms in his eyes, his confidence in Brother 
Sebastian's sanctity was confirmed, and his memory was 
cherished with additional fondness by the grateful and 
credulous monarch. At the same time, therefore, that 
the pretensions of the Bishop of Osma to canonization 
were urged at Rome, the Spanish minister was instructed 
to speak a good word for the humble friar Sebastian. 
The lively and sarcastic Azara was entrusted with this 
negotiation ; and, as I know that he was at some pains to 
preserve the documents of this curious transaction, it is 
not impossible that he may have left memoirs of his life, 
in which the whole correspondence will, no doubt, be de- 
tailed with minuteness and exquisite humour. 

The Court of Rome is ever fertile in expedients, espe- 
cially when the object is to start difficulties and suggest 
obstacles to any design. The investigation of Palafox's 
pretensions was studiously protracted ; and it was easy 
to perceive that the influence of the Jesuits in the Sacred 
College was exerted to throw new impediments in the 
way of their adversary's canonization. Though the 
Court of Rome could never seriously have thought of 



JFSU1TS IN SPAIN. 405 

giving Brother Sebastian a place in the Rubric, they 
amused Charles III. by very long discussions on his 
merits, and went through, with scrupulous minuteness, 
all the previous ceremonies for ascertaining the conduct 
of a saint. 

It is a maxim, that the original of every writing of a 
person claiming to be made a saint, must be examined at 
Rome by the Sacred College, and that no copy, however 
attested, can be admitted as sufficient testimony, if the 
original document is in existence, The book, therefore, 
to which the Spanish Monarch was so attached, was re- 
quired at Rome. Here was an abundant source of nego- 
tiation and delay. Charles could not bring* himself to 
part with his treasure, and the forms of canonization 
precluded the College from proceeding without it e At 
length, the King, from his honest and disinterested zeal 
for the friar, was prevailed upon. But Azara was in- 
structed to have the College summoned, and the Cardi- 
nals ready, on the day and even the hour at which it was 
calculated that the most expeditious courier could convey 
the precious book from Madrid to Rome. Relays were 
provided on the road, and Charles III. himself deposited 
the precious manuscript in the hands of his most trusty 
messenger, with long and anxious injunctions to preserve 
it most religiously, and not to lose a moment in sallying 
forth from Rome on his return, when the interesting con- 
tents of the volume should have been perused. 

The interim was to Charles III. a " phantasma, or a 
hideous dream." He never slept, and scarcely took any 
nourishment during the few days he was separated from 
the beloved paper. His domestic economy, and the 
regulation of his hours, which neither public business 
nor private affliction in any other instance disturbed, 
was altered ; and the chase, which was not interrupted 



406 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



even by the illness and death of his children, was sus- 
pended till Brother Sebastian's original MS. could again 
accompany him to the field. He stood at the window of 
his palace counting- the drops of rain on the glasses, and 
sighing deeply. Business, pleasure, conversation, and 
meals, were suspended, till the long-expected treasure 
returned, and restored the monarch to his usual avoca- 
tions. 

When, however, his Confessor discovered that the 
Court of Rome was trifling with their solicitations, that 
to Palafox there was an insurmountable repugnance, and 
when the King began to suspect that the sacrifice he had 
been compelled to make was all to no purpose, and that 
the pains of separation had been inflicted upon him with- 
out the slightest disposition to grant him the object for 
which alone he had been inclined to endure it, both he 
and his Confessor grew angry. The opposition to their 
wishes was, perhaps, truly, and certainly industriously 
traced to the Jesuits. 

In the mean while a riot occurred at Madrid. In 1766, 
the people rose against the regulation of police which 
attempted to suppress the cloaks and large hats, as 
affording too great opportunities for the concealment 
of assassins. These and other obnoxious measures were 
attributed to the Marquis of Squilace, who, in his qua- 
lity of favourite as well as foreigner, was an unpopular 
minister of finance. Charles III. was compelled to 
abandon him ; and the Count of Aranda, disgraced under 
Ferdinand VI. and lately appointed to the captain- 
generalship of Valencia, was named President of the 
council of Castile, for the purpose of pacifying hy his 
popularity, and suppressing by his vigour, the remaining 
discontents of the people. He entered into all Roda's 
views. As an Aragonese, he was an enemy of the Co- 



JESUITS IN SPAIN. 



407 



legios Mat/ores, for they admitted few subjects of that 
Crown to their highest distinctions : and as a free- 
thinker, and man of letters, he was anxious to suppress 
the Jesuits. 

Reports, founded or unfounded, were circulated in 
the country, and countenanced by these powerful men, 
that the J esuits had instigated the riots of Madrid . It 
was confidently asserted, that many had been seen in the 
mob, though disguised ; and Father Isidro Lopez, an 
Asturian, who was considered as one of the leading cha- 
racters in the company, was expressly named as having 
been active in the streets. Ensenada, the great protector 
of the Jesuits in the former reign, had been named by 
the populace as the proper successor of Squilace, and 
there were certainly either grounds for suspecting, or 
pretexts for attributing the discontent of the metropolis 
to the machinations of the Jesuits and their protector the 
ex-minister Ensenada. Enquiries were instituted. Many 
witnesses were examined ; but great secresy was pre- 
served. It is, however, to be presumed, that, under 
colour of investigating the causes of the late riot, Aranda 
and Roda contrived to collect every information which 
could inflame the mind of the King against those institu- 
tions which they were determined to subvert. They had 
revived the controversy respecting the conduct of the 
venerable Palafox, and drawn the attention both of 
Charles III. and the public to the celebrated letter of 
that prelate, in which he describes the machinations of 
the Jesuits in South America, and which their party had 
but a few years since sentenced to be publicly burnt in 
the great square of Madrid. 

But, even with the assistance of Father Osma, the ac- 
quiescence of the King, and the concert of many foreign 
enemies of the Company, Roda and Aranda were in want 



408 



SUPPRESSION OF THE 



of the additional aid which talents, assiduity, learning, 
and character could supply, to carry into execution a 
project vast in its conception, and extremely complicated, 
as well as delicate in its details. They found it in the fa- 
mous Campomanes. Perhaps the grateful recollection of 
services, and the natural good-nature of Jovellanos, led 
him to praise too highly his early protector and precursor, 
in the studies which he himself brought to greater per- 
fection. But Campomanes was an enlightened man, and 
a laborious as well as honest minister. He was at that 
time Fiscal of the Council and Chancellor of Castile, 
and considered by the profession of the law, as well as 
by the great commercial and political bodies throughout 
Spain, as an infallible oracle on all matters regarding the 
internal administration of the kingdom. The Coleccion 
de Providencias tomadas por el gobierno sobre el estrana- 
miento y ocupacion de temp or alidades de los Regulares de 
la Compania (Collection of measures taken by the Go- 
vernment for the alienation and seizure of the temporali- 
ties of the Regulars of the company of Jesuits) is said to 
be a monument of his diligence, sagacity, and vigour. 

A royal decree was issued on 27th February, 1767, 
and dated from el Pardo, by which a Junta, composed of 
several members of the Royal Council, was instituted, in 
consequence of the riot of Madrid of the preceding year. 
To this Junta several bishops, selected from those who 
were most attached to the doctrines of Saint Thomas 
Aquinas, and, consequently, least favourable to the Je- 
suits, (for they espouse the rival tenets,) were added for 
the purpose of giving weight and authority to their decree. 
In this Junta the day and form of the measure were re- 
solved upon, and instructions drawn out for the Ma- 
gistrates who were to execute it both in Spain and in 
America, together with directions for the nature of the 



JESUITS IN SP^ IN. 



409 



preparations, the carriages to be provided at the various 
places inland, and the vessels to be ready in the ports. 
The precautions were well laid. The secret was wonder- 
fully kept ; and on the night of the first of April, at mid- 
night precisely, every College of the Jesuits throughout 
Spain was surrounded by troops, and every member of 
each collected in their respective chapters, priests or lay- 
brothers, young or old, acquainted with the decree, and 
forcibly conveyed out of the kingdom. Their sufferings 
are well known ; and the fortitude with which they bore 
them must extort praise even from those who are most 
convinced of the mischiefs which their long influence in 
the courts of Europe produced. The expulsion and 
persecution of the French priests during the Revolution 
was more bloody, but scarcely less inhuman, than the 
hardships inflicted by the regular and legitimate mo- 
narchies which had originally encouraged them, on the 
Jesuits. On the other hand, the suppression of that so- 
ciety was favourable to the cause of liberty, morals, and 
even learning; — for though their system of education 
has been much extolled, it must be acknowledged that in 
Spain, at least, the period at which the education of 
youth was chiefly entrusted to Jesuits, is that in which 
Castilian literature declined, and general ignorance pre- 
vailed. If the state of education in a country is to be 
judged of by its fruits, the Jesuits in Spain certainly 
retarded its progress. In relation to the rest of Europe, 
the Spaniards were farther advanced in science and learn- 
ing during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, than 
during the seventeenth and eighteenth ; and since the 
suppression of the Company, in 1767, and not till then, 
a taste for literature and a spirit of improvement revived 
among them. 



NOTES. 



NOTE A. 

On the Devotion of the Spaniards to the Immaculate 
Conception of the Virgin Mary.— p. 22. 

The history of the transactions relative to the dis- 
putes on the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, 
even when confined to those which took place at Seville, 
could not be compressed within the limits of one of the 
preceding letters. Such readers, besides, as take little 
interest in subjects of this nature, would probably have 
objected to a detailed account of absurdities, which seem 
at first sight scarcely to deserve any notice. Yet there 
are others to whom nothing' is without interest which 
depicts any peculiar state of the human mind, and ex- 
hibits some of the innumerable modifications of society. 
Out of deference, therefore, to the first, we have detached 
the following narrative from the text of Doblado's Let- 
ters, casting the information we have collected from the 
Spanish writers into a note, the length of which will, 
we hope, be excused by those of the latter description. 



412 



NOTES. 



The dispute on the Immaculate Conception of the 
Virgin began between the Dominicans and Franciscans 
as early as the thirteeeth century. The contending 
parties stood at first upon equal ground ; but " the 
merits of faith and devotion" were so decidedly on the 
side of the Franciscans, that they soon had the Christian 
mob to support them, and it became dangerous for any 
Divine to assert that the Mother of God (such is the 
established language of the Church of Home) had been, 
like the rest of mankind, involved in original sin. The 
oracle of the Capitol allowed, however, the dispu- 
tants to fight out their battles, without shewing the 
least partiality, till public opinion had taken a decided 
turn. 

In 1613, a Dominican, in a sermon preached at the 
cathedral of Seville, threw out some doubts on the Im- 
maculate Conception. This was conceived to be an in- 
sult not only to the Virgin Mary, but to the community 
at large ; and the populace was kept with difficulty from 
taking summary vengeance on the offender and his con- 
vent. Zuniga, the annalist of Seville, who published his 
work in 1677, deems it a matter of Christian forbearance 
not to consign the names of the preacher and his convent 
to the execration of posterity. But if the civil and ec- 
clesiastical authorities exerted themselves for the pro- 
tection of the offenders, they were also the first to 
promote a series of expiatory rites, which might avert the 
anger of their Patroness, and make ample reparation to 
her insulted honour. Processions innumerable paraded 
the streets, proclaiming the original purity of the Virgin 
Mother ; and Miguel del Cid, a Sevillian poet of that 
day, was urged by the Archbishop to compose the 
Spanish hymn, " Todo el Mundo en general," which, 
though far below mediocrity, is still nightly sung at 



NOTES. 



413 



Seville by the associations called Rosarios, which have 
been described in Doblado's Letters.* 

The next step was to procure a decision of the Pope 
in favour of the Immaculate Conception. To promote this 
important object two commissioners were dispatched to 
Home, both of them dignified clergymen, who had de- 
voted their lives and fortunes to the cause of the Virgin 
Mary. 

After four years of indescribable anxiety the long 
wished-for decree, which doomed to silence the oppo- 
nents of Mary's original innocence, was known to be on 
the point of passing the seal of the Fisherman^ and 
the Sevillians held themselves in readiness to express 
their unbounded joy the very moment of its arrival in 
their town. This great event took place on the 22d of 
October 1617, at ten o'clock P.M. " The news, says 
Zuniga, produced a universal stir in the town. Men left 
their houses to congratulate one another in the streets. 
The fraternity of the Nazarenes joining in a procession 
of more than six hundred persons, with lighted candles 
in their hands, sallied forth from their church, singing 
the hymn in honour of Original Purity. Numerous bon- 
fires were lighted, the streets were illuminated from the 
windows and terraces, and ingenious fireworks were let 
off in different parts of the town. At midnight the bells 
of the cathedral broke out into a general chime, which 
was answered by every parish church and convent ; and 
many persons in masks and fancy dresses having gathered 
before the archbishop's palace, his grace appeared at the 
balcony, moved to tears by the devout joy of his flock. 
At the first peal of the bells all the churches were thrown 
open, and the hymns and praises offered up in them lent 

* Letter I. p. 20. 

f Sigillum or annulus Piscatoris, the great seal of the Pope*. 



414 



NOTES. 



to the stillness of night the most lively sounds of the 
day." 

A day was subsequently fixed when all the authorities 
were to take a solemn oath in the Cathedral, to believe 
and assert the Immaculate Conception. An endless series 
of processions followed to thank Heaven for the late 
triumph against the unbelievers. In fact, the people of 
Seville could not move about, for some time, without 
forming a religious procession. " Any boy," says a 
contemporary historian, <e who, going upon an errand, 
chose to strike up the hymn Todo el Munclo, were sure 
to draw after him a train, which from one grew up into 
a multitude; for there was not a gentleman, clergyman, 
or friar, who did not join and follow r the chorus which he 
thus happened to meet in the streets." 

Besides these religious ceremonies, shows of a more 
worldly character were exhibited. Among these was 
the Moorish equestrian game, called, in Arabic, EUeerid, 
and in Spanish, Cartas, from the reeds which, instead of 
javelins, the cavaliers dart at each other, as they go 
through a great variety of graceful and complicated evo- 
lutions on horseback.* Fiestas lleales, or bull-fights, 
where gentlemen enter the arena, were also exhibited on 
this occasion. To diversify, however, the spectacle, and 
indulge the popular taste, which requires a species of 
comic interlude, called Mogiganga, a dwarf, whose dimi- 

* Gentlemen of the first rank, who are members of the associations 
called Maestranzas, perform at these games on the King's birth-day, 
and other public festivals. Horsemanship was formerly in great esti- 
mation among the Andalusian gentry, who joined in a variety of 
amusements connected with that art. Such was the Parejas de Hachas, 
a game performed by night, at which the riders bore lighted torches. 
When Philip the Fourth visited Seville, in 1624, one hundred gentle- 
men, each attended by two grooms, all with torches in their hands, 
ran races before the king. This was the only amusement which, ac- 
cording to the established notions, could be permitted in Lent. 



NOTES. 



415 



Hutive limbs required to have the stirrups fix ed on the 
flap of the saddle, mounted on a milk-white horse, and 
attended by four negroes of gigantic stature, dressed in a 
splendid oriental costume, fought with one of the bulls, 
and drove a full span of his lance into the animal's body 
— a circumstance which was deemed too important to be 
omitted by the historiographers of Seville. 

The most curious and characteristic of the shows was, 
however, an allegorical tournament, exhibited at the ex- 
pense of the company of silk-weavers, who, from the 
monopoly with the Spanish Colonies, had attained great 
wealth and consequence at that period. It is thus de- 
scribed, from the records of the times, by a modern Spa- 
nish writer. 

" Near the Puerta del Pardon (one of the gates of the 
cathedral), a platform was erected, terminating under the 
altar dedicated to the Virgin, which stands over the 
gate.* Three splendid seats were placed at the foot of 
the altar, and two avenues railed in on both sides of the 
platform to admit the J udges, the challenger, the sup- 
porters or seconds, the marshal, and the adventurers. 
Near one of the corners of the stage was pitched the 
challenger's tent of black and brown silk, and in it a 
seat covered with black velvet. Tn front stood the figure 
of an apple-tree bearing fruit, and hanging from its 
boughs a target, on which the challenge was exposed to 
view. 

" At five in the afternoon, the Marshal, attended by 
his Adjutant, presented himself in the lists. He was 
followed by four children, in the dress used to represent 

* The reader must be aware that this was an imitation of a foot 
tournament, an amusement as frequent among the ancient Spanish 
knights as the jousts on horseback. It is called in the Spanish Chro. 
nicies Torneo de a pie. 



416 



NOTES. 



angels, with lighted torches in their hands. Another 
child, personating Michael the Archangel, was the leader 
of a second group of six angels, who were the bearers of 
the prizes — a Lamb and a Male Infant. The Judges, 
Justice and Mercy, appeared last of all, and took their 
appointed seats. 

" The sound of drums, fifes, and clarions, announced 
soon after, the approach of another group, composed of 
two savages of gigantic dimensions, with large clubs on 
their shoulders, eight torch-bearers in black, and two 
infernal Furies, and, in the centre, the challenger's shields 
bearer, followed by the challenger's supporter or second, 
dressed in black and gold, with a plume of black and 
yellow feathers. This band having walked round the 
stage, the second brought the challenger out of the tent, 
who, dressed uniformly with his supporter, appeared 
wielding a lance twenty-five hands in length.* 

The following is a list of the Adventurers, their attend- 
ants, or torch-bearers, and supporters or seconds: — 

Adam 
Cain 

Abraham 

Job 
David 
Jeroboam 
Abab 

John the Baptist 

» Though the Spanish writer has forgotten to mention the allegory 
of the challenger, it is evident, from the sequel, that he was intended 
to represent Sin. 

f Dwarfs were formerly very common among the servants of the 
Spanish nobility. But it is not easy to guess for what reason they 
were allotted to Abraham, on this occasion. 



Attendants 6 Clowns 



Seconds- 



6 Infernal Furies 

6 Dwarfs,-f three' 
Angels in the ha- < 
bit of Pilgrims, | 
and Isaac 

6 Pages 

6 Squires 

4 Jews 
12 Squires 
12 Squires 



5 Hope and 
\ Innocence. 

Envy. 
Faith. 

Patience. 

Repentance. 

Idolatry. 

Covetousness. 

5 Divine Love 
I and Grace. 



NOTES. 



417 



" The dresses (continues the historian) were all splendid, 
and suited to the characters. 

" The Adventurers engaged the challenger in succes- 
sion, and all were wounded by the first stroke of his 
enormous lance. In this state they drew their swords, 
and fought with various success, some conquering the 
common enemy, while others yielded to his superior force. 
None, however, distinguished himself so much as the 
Baptist, who, regardless of the wound he had received at 
the first onset, and being armed with fresh weapons by 
Grace, beat the adversary in every succeeding rencounter. 
His extraordinary success was rewarded with a seat near 
the Judges, and the Lamb was awarded him as a prize. 

" After this, the Marshal and his Adjutant, followed 
by Grace and Divine Love, left the stage. In a short 
time they re-appeared, followed by twelve youths, as 
torch-bearers, the seven Virtues* personated by children 
from four to five years of age, and nine Angels, as repre- 
sentatives of the nine hierarchies. Two squires attended 
each of the Virtues and Angels ; the whole train being 
closed by Grace and Divine Love, supporting the last 
Adventurer, a beautiful child seven years old, who, as 
intended to represent the Holy Virgin, was more splen- 
didly dressed than the rest, in a suit of sky-blue and 
white, sprinkled with golden stars, the hair flowing down 
the shoulders in curls, and held round the head by a 
twelve -starred diadem. 

" When the combatants faced each other, the challenger 
could not conceal his trepidation. The female Adven- 
turer, on the other hand, would not use the lance with 
which she had entered the lists ; for it bore the words 
Daughter of Adam, in a banderole which hung from 

* The Spanish Catechism enumerates seven vices and seven op- 
posite virtues. 

2 E 



418 



NOTES. 



it. Having thrown away that weapon, she received 
another from the seconds, with the inscription Daughter 
of the Father. At this moment the challenger darted 
his lance ; but in his fear and confusion, he could not 
touch his adversary, while the heroine, on the contrary, 
taking an unerring aim at his breast, brought him in- 
stantly upon his knees; and the victory was completed 
with two other lances, bearing the mottoes — Mother of 
the Son — Spouse of the Holy Ghost. Unhurt by 
her adversary, she had now laid him on the ground, and 
placed her foot and sword upon his neck, amidst a shout 
of universal acclamation. The Judges awarded her the 
Child Jesus, as a prize, and seated her above all in a 
throne. Next under the Virgin took their seats Divine 
Love, Grace, Michael, and John the Baptist, and a 
general tournament ensued, in which all the other com- 
batants engaged. The tournament being ended, the 
challenger and his second retired through the left avenue. 
The rest of the actors conducted the victor, through that 
on the right, attended by one hundred and forty torch- 
bearers, and a band of musicians singing her triumphal 
hymn, which was echoed by the immense concourse." 
Compendio Historico de Sevilla por Don Fermin Arana 
de Varflora (Padre Valderrama) p. 77, et seq. 

NOTE B. 

On a Passage in Xenophon. — p. 46. 

The passage from Xenophon translated in the text is 
this: Oi olv d/x<pl tqv Xunpixrw Trpurov (xev, uo-irep eixo$ yiv, 

E7TCCtV0UTE$ T*!V K^WIV, QVX VKl<rX V0VVT0 ^VvhlTTVWElV. U$ ($E 7TUVU 

axQo/jiEvos <pavepo$ «v ? ei (m fyoivro, <ruvY)KohouQr}<rav. Syinpos. 
c, 1. 7. Ernesti is angry at the u<rftep e\kq$, which is soon 



NOTES. 



419 



after repeated, when speaking of the order in which the 
guests placed themselves at table. He wants, in the 
last passage, to change it into ag etv^ov. But though the 
emendation is plausible, there seems to be no necessity 
to alter the reading. Xenophon is, indeed, remarkably 
fond of that phrase. The stub;, in both places, probably 
means according to custom. It might be applied to the 
order of precedence in England, and it should seem to 
have been used by Xenophon to denote the Greek sense 
of propriety in taking a place at table. In Spain, where 
there is no established order, a great deal of bowing and 
scraping takes place before the guests can arrange that 
important point. But, without any settled rule, there is 
a tact which seldom misleads any one who wishes not to 
give offence. This is probably the second aWep eUbf of 
Xenophon. 

NOTE C. 

" A little ivork that gave an amusing Miracle of the 
Virgin for every Day in the Year." p. 70. 

The book alluded to in the text is the Ano Virgineo. 
The moral tendency of this and similar books may be 
shewn by the following story — technically named an Ex- 
ample — which I will venture to give from memory : — A 
Spanish soldier, who had fought in the Netherlands, 
having returned home with some booty, was leading a 
profligate and desperate life. He had, however, bled 
for the Faith : and his own was perfectly orthodox. A 
large old picture of the Virgin Mary hung over the inside 
of the door of his lodgings, which, it seems, did not 
correspond in loftiness to the brave halberdier's mind 
and demeanour. Early every morning he used to sally 
forth in pursuit of unlawful pleasure ; but, though he 

2 e 2 



420 



NOTES. 



never did bend his knees in prayer, he would not cross 
the threshold without a loud Hail Mary ! to the picture, 
accompanied by an inclination of the halbert, which 
partly from his outrageous hurry to break out of the 
nightly prison, partly from want of room for his military 
salute, inflicted many a wound on the canvass. Thus 
our soldier went on spending his life and money, till a 
sharp Spanish dagger composed him to rest, in the heat 
of a brawl. " He died and made no sign." The Devil, 
who thought him as fair a prize as any that had ever been 
within his grasp, waited only for the sentence which, 
according to Catholics, is passed on every individual 
immediately after death, in what they call the Particular 
Judgment. At this critical moment the Virgin Mary 
presented herself in a black mantle, similar to that which 
she wore in the picture, but sadly rent and slit in several 
places. " These are the marks," she said to the affright- 
ed soul, " of your rude, though certainly well-meant 
civility. I will not, however, permit that one who has so 
cordially saluted me every day, should go into everlasting 
fire." Thus saying, she bade the evil spirit give up his 
prisoner, and the gallant soldier was sent to purge off the 
dross of his boisterous nature, in the gentler flames of 
purgatory. — A portion of the book from which I recol- 
lect this story, was, for many years, read every evening 
in one of the principal parishes at Seville. I observed 
the same practice at a town not far from the capital of 
Andalusia ; and, for any thing I know to the contrary, it 
may be very common all over Spain. Such is the doctrine 
which, disowned in theory by the divines of the Roman 
church, but growing out of the system of saint- worship, 
constitutes the main religious feeling of the vulgar, and 
taints strongly the minds of the higher classes in Spain. 
The Chronicles of the Religious Orders are full of nar- 



NOTES. 



421 



ratives, the whole drift of which is to represent their 
patron saint as powerful to save from the very jaws of 
hell. The skill of the painter has often heen engaged to 
exhibit these stories to the eye, and the Spanish con - 
vents abound in pictures more encouraging- to vice than 
the most profligate prints of the Palais Royal. I recollect 
one at Seville in the convent of the Antonines — a spe- 
cies of the genus Monachus Franciscanus of the Mo- 
nachologia — so strangely absurd, that I hope the reader 
will forgive my lengthening this note with its descrip- 
tion. The picture I allude to was in the cloisters of the 
convent of San Antonio, facing the principal entrance, 
so late as the year 1810, when I was last at Seville. The 
subject is the hair-breadth escape of a great sinner, 
whom St. Francis saved against all chances. An extract 
from the Chronicles of the Order, which is found in a 
corner of the painting, informs the beholder that the 
person whose soul is represented on the canvass, was a 
lawless nobleman, who, fortified in his own castle, be- 
came the terror and abhorrence of the neighbourhood. 
As neither the life of man, nor the honour of woman, 
was safe from the violence of his passions, none willingly 
dwelt upon his lands, or approached the gale of the 
castle. It chanced, however, that two Franciscan 
friars, having lost the way in a stormy night, applied 
for shelter at the wicked nobleman's gate, where they 
met with nothing but insult and scorn. It was well 
for them that the fame of St. Francis filled the world at 
that time. The holy saint, with the assistance of St. 
Paul, had lately cut the throat of an Italian bishop, who 
had resisted fhe establishment of the Franciscans in his 
diocese.* 

* This curious scene is the subject of another picture in the 
cloisters of Saint Francis, at Seville. The bishop is seen in his bed, 



422 



NOTES. 



The fear of a similar punishment abated the fierceness 
of the nobleman, and he ordered his servants to give the 
friars some clean straw for a bed, and a couple of eggs 
for their supper. Having given this explanation, the 
painter trusts to the appropriate language of his art, and 
takes up the story immediately after the death of the 
noble sinner. Michael the archangel— who by a tradi- 
tional belief, universal in Spain, and probably common 
to all Catholic countries, is considered to have the charge 
of weighing departed souls with their good works, 
against the sins they have committed — is represented 
with a large pair of scales in his hand. Several angels, 
in a group, stand near him, and a crowd of devils are 
watching, at a respectful distance, the result of the trial. 
The newly-departed soul, in the puny shape of a sickly 
boy, has been placed, naked, in one scale, while the op- 
posite groans under a monstrous heap of swords, dag- 
gers, poisoned bows, love-letters, and portraits of females, 
who had been the victims of his fierce desires. It is 
evident that this ponderous mass would have greatly out- 
weighed the slight and nearly transparent form which 
was to oppose its pressure, had not Saint Francis, whose 
figure stands prominent in the painting, assisted the dis- 

where Saint Francis has neatly severed the head from the body with 
Saint Paul's sword, which he had borrowed for this pious purpose. 
As the good friars might have been suspected of having a hand in 
this miracle, the saint performed an additional wonder. The figures 
of Saint Paul and Saint Francis stood side by side in a painted glass 
window of the principal convent of the order. The apostle had a 
sword in his hand, while his companion was weaponless. To the 
great surprise of the fathers, it was observed, one, morning, that 
Saint Paul had given away the sword to his friend. The death of 
the bishop, which happened that very night, explained the wonder, 
and taught the world what those might expect who thwarted the 
plans of Heaven in the establishment of the Franciscans. 



NOTES. 



tressed soul by slipping a couple of eggs and a bundle 
of straw into its own side of the balance. Upon this 
seasonable addition, (be instruments and emblems of 
guilt are seen to fly up and kick the beam. It appears 
from this that the Spanish painter agrees with Milton in 
the system of weighing Fate ; and that, since the days of 
Homer and Virgil, superior weight is become the sign of 
victory, which with them was that of defeat — quo vergat 
ponder e let hum. 

NOTE D. 

On the Moral Character of the Spanish Jesuits, p. 77. 

Whatever we may think of the political delinquencies 
of their leaders, their bitterest enemies have never ven- 
tured to charge the Order of Jesuits with moral irregula- 
rities. The internal policy of that body precluded the 
possibility of gross misconduct. No Jesuit could step out 
of doors without calling on the superior for leave and a 
companion, in the choice of whom great care was taken 
to vary the couples. Never were they allowed to pass a 
single night out of the convent, except when attending a 
dying person : and, even then, they were under the 
strictest injunctions to return at whatever hour the soul 
departed. Nothing, however, can give a more striking 9 
view of the discipline and internal government of the Je- 
suits than a case well known in my family, which I shall 
here insert as not devoid of interest. A Jesuit of good 
connexions, and more than common abilities, had, during 
a long residence at Granada, become a general favourite, 
and especially in a family of distinction where there were 
some young ladies. On one of the three days properly 
named the Carnival, he happened to call at that house, 
and found the whole family indulging with a few intimate 



424 



NOTES. 



friends in the usual mirth of the season ; but all in a pri- 
vate domestic manner. With the freedom and vivacity 
peculiar to Spanish females, the young ladies formed a 
conspiracy to make their favourite J esuit stand up and 
dance with them. Resistance was in vain : they teased 
and cajoled the poor man, till he, in good-natured con- 
descension, got up, moved in the dance for a few minutes, 
and retired again to his seat. Years elapsed : he was 
removed from Granada, and probably forgot the transient 
gaiety into which he had been betrayed. It is well 
known that the general of the Jesuits, who made Rome 
his constant residence, appointed from thence to every 
office in the order all over the world. But so little ca- 
price influenced those nominations, that the friends of the 
unfortunate dancer were daily expecting to see him 
elected provincial governor of the Jesuits in Andalusia. 
To their great surprise, however, the election fell upon 
a much inferior man. As the elections were triennial, 
the strongest interest was made for the next turn. Pressed 
on all sides, the general desired his secretary to return a 
written answer. It was conceived in these words : " It 
cannot be: he danced at Granada." 

I have seen Capuchin friars, the most austere order of 
Franciscans, rattling* on a guitar, and singing* Eoleros 
before a mixed company in the open fields ; and I have 
heard of a friar, who being called to watch over a death- 
bed, in a decent but poor family, had the audacity to 
take gross liberties with a female in the very room where 
the sick man lay speechless. He recovered, however, 
strength enough to communicate this horrid insult to his 
son, from whom I have the fact. The convent to which 
this friar belonged, is notorious, among the lower classes, 
for profligacy. 

I shall add a little trait illustrative of Spanish manners. 



NOTES. 



425 



A friar in high glee is commonly reminded of his pro- 
fession, in a jeering tone, by the wags of the company. 
Cries of, C&namo, Padre, (hemp, my father !) are heard 
from all sides, alluding to the scourge used for the dis- 
cipline, which is made of that substance, and recommend- 
ing it as a proper cure for rebellious spirits. These two 
words will cut a friar to the heart. 

NOTE E. 

" On the Prevalence of Scepticism among the Catholic 
Clergy." p. 100. 

I once heard an English gentleman, who had resided 
a long time in Italy, where he obtained lodgings in a 
convent, relate his surprise at the termination of a friendly 
discussion which he had with the most able individuals 
of the house, on the points of difference between the 
Churches of England and Rome. The dispute had been 
animated, and supported with great ability on the Ca- 
tholic side by one of the youngest monks. When, at 
length, all, except the chief disputants, had retired, the 
young monk, turning to his English guest, asked him 
whether he really believed what he had been defending? 
Upon receiving a serious answer in the affirmative, he 
could not help exclaiming, Allor lei crede piu che tutto 
il convent o. 

NOTE F. 

" The Child God." p. 147. 
The representation of the Deity in the form of a child 
is very common in Spain, The number of little figures, 
about a foot high, called Nino Dios, or Nino Jesus, 
is nearly equal to that of nuns in most convents. 
The nuns dress them in all the variety of the national 



VOTES. 



costumes, such as clergymen, canons in their choral 
robes, doctors of divinity in their hoods, physicians in 
their wigs and gold-headed canes, &c. &c. The Nirio 
Jesus is often found in private houses ; and in some parts 
of Spain, where contraband trade is the main occupation 
of the people, is seen in the dress of a smuggler with a 
brace of pistols at his girdle, and a blunderbuss leaning 
on his arm, 

NOTE G. 
« 5 On the Town of Other a." p. 170. 

In De Rocca's " Memoires stir la Guerre des Fran^ais 
en Espagne" there is a trait so perfectly in character 
with Don Leucadio's description of the people of Olbera, 
that I must beg leave to transcribe it : — 

" Nous formames un bivouac dans une prairie entouree 
de murs, attenante a I'auberge qui est sur la roure au 
bas du village. Les habitans furent, pendant le reste 
du jour, assez tranquilles en apparence, et ils nous fourni- 
rent des vivres; mais, au lieu d'un jeune bceuf que 
j'avais demande, ils nous apporterent un ane coupe en 
quartiers : les hussards trouverent que ce veau, comme 
ils l'appellaient, avait le gout un peu fade ; mais ce ne 
fut que long-temps apres que nous apprimes cette bizarre 
tromperie, par les montagnards eiix-memes. Ils nous 
criaient souvent, dans la suite, en tiraillant avec nous, 
c Vous avez mange de Pane a Olbera.' C'etait, dans leur 
opinion, la plus sanglante des injures qu'on put faire a 
des chretiens. ,, 

De Rocca's book abounds in lively pictures of Spanish 
manners, especially in the account he gives of the Ser- 
rania de Ronda ; without indulging national partialities, 
he does full justice to his mortal enemies, and represents 



NOTES. 



427 



them in the most favourable colours which were consistent 
with truth. 

NOTE H. 

i 1 The effectual aid given by that Crucifix in the Plague 
of 1469, was upon record" p. 174. 

Zuniga, in his Annals, copies a Spanish inscription, 
which still exists in the convent of Saint Augustin, at 
Seville ; of which I subjoin a translation : — 

" In 1649, this town being under a most violent attack 
of the plague, of which great numbers died,* the two 
most illustrious Chapters, Ecclesiatical and Secular, re- 
quested that this community of our father St. Augustin, 
should allow the image of Christ to be carried to tbe 
Cathedral. It was, accordingly, conveyed, on the second 
of July of the same year, in a solemn procession, at- 
tended by the Secular Chapter (the Town Corporation), 
and all the religious communities, amidst the loud wail- 
ings of the people ; when the most illustrious the Chap- 
ter of the Cathedral walked to meet the procession at the 
end of the street of the Placentines.f The most holy 
image was left that evening and the ensuing night in the 

* Espinosa, the modern editor and annotator of Zuniga, states, 
from ancient records, that within the first six weeks after the ap- 
pearance of the plague, the numberof deaths amounted to eighty 
thousand. This, however, we consider as a palpable exaggeration ; 
for, though Seville was nearly depopulated on that occasion, it is 
probable that it never contained more than one hundred thousand 
inhabitants. 

f Seville has several streets bearing the name of foreign nations 
— a faint memorial of its former commerce and wealth. The street 
of the Placentines is a continuation of that of the Franks (Francos). 
There is a Lombard Street (calle Lombardos), a Genoa Street, and 
some others of a similar denomination. 



NOTES* 



Cathedral, and returned the next day to its shrine, our 
Lord being pleased to ordain that the plague should 
begin to abate from the day when the image was brought 
out, and cease altogether at the end of the Octavario, 
(eight days worship), as it was attested by the physicians. 
Wherefore the most noble and most loyal city of Seville 
appointed the said second of July, for ever, to repair 
to this convent as an act of thanksgiving for that great 
benefit." 

In spite of this solemn acknowledgment of the miracle, 
the astrologers of that day were unwilling to give the 
crucifix the whole credit of staying the plague. Zuniga 
shrewdly observes that the conjunction of Jupiter with 
Mars, which, according to Captain Francis de Ruesta, 
removed the infection, did not take place till the 12th of 
July, ten days after the wonderful effects of the proces- 
sion had become visible ; and the Captain himself, pro- 
bably to keep clear of the Inquisition, declares that the 
favourable influence of the planets " was previously en- 
sured by the exhibition of the Holy Christ of Saint 
Augustin." Zuiiiga, finales de Sevilla, t. iv. p. 404. 

NOTE I. 

" Vicious Habits of the Religious Probationers" p. 195. 

The Spanish satirical novel, " Fray Gerundio de Cam- 
pazas," contains a lively picture of the adventures of 
a Novice. It was written by Padre Isla, a Jesuit, for 
the purpose of checking the foppery and absurdity of the 
popular preachers. Cervantes himself could not boast 
of greater success in banishing the books of Chivalry 
than Isla in shaming the friars out of the affected and 
often profane concetti, which, in his time, were mistaken 
for pulpit eloquence. But the Inquisition could uot 



NOTES. 



4-29 



endure that her great props, the religious orders, should 
be exposed, in any of their members, to the shafts of ri- 
dicule ; and Fray Gerundio was prohibited. 

NOTE K. 

A book entitled Memorias % para la vida del Exemo. 
Senor D. Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos, was published, 
at Madrid, in 1814, by Cean Bermudez. This gentle- 
man, whose uninterrupted intimacy from early youth 
with the subject of his Memoirs, enabled him to draw 
an animated picture of one of the most interesting men 
that Spain has produced in her decline, has, probably, 
from the habits of reserve and false notions of decorum, 
still prevalent in that country, greatly disappointed our 
hopes. What relates to Jovellanos himself is confined to 
a few pages, containing little more than the dates of 
events connected with his public life, some vague decla- 
mation, and a few inuendos on the great intrigues which, 
having raised him to the ministry, confined him soon af- 
ter to the fortress of Bellver. The second part contains 
a catalogue, and a slight analysis of his works. The 
friends of Jovellanos, however, are indebted to the 
author of the Memorias, for the help which this collection 
of notes on the life of that truly excellent and amiable 
man will afford any future writer who, with more settled 
habits of freedom, and altogether under more favourable 
circumstances, shall undertake to draw the full-length 
picture of which we yet scarcely possees a sketch. 

For the satisfaction of such of our readers as may 
wish to know the fate of Jovellanos, we subjoin a brief 
account of the last years of his life. 

Upon the accession of Ferdinand VII., Jovellanos 
was, by royal order, released from his confinement, and 



430 



NOT tS. 



subsequently elected a Member of the Central Junta. 
When the French entered Seville in 1810, and the 
Regency of Cadiz superseded the Junta, he wished tore- 
tire to his native place, Gijon, in Asturias. 

The popular feeling, exasperated by national misfor- 
tunes, was now venting itself against the abdicated Go- 
vernment, to whose want of energy the advantages of the 
Frencb were indiscriminately attributed ; and Jovellanos, 
accidentally detained in the Bay of Cadiz, had the mor- 
tification of learning that he was involved in the absurd 
and shameful suspicion of having shared in the spoil of 
the Spanish treasury, with which the Central Junta was 
charged. A dignified appeal to the candour of the na- 
tion, which he sent to the Cadiz papers for insertion, 
was not permitted to see the light — so narrow and illibe- 
ral were the views of the Regency — and the feeling and 
high-minded Castilian had to sail under the intolerable 
apprehension that some of his countrymen might look 
upon him as a felon endeavouring' to abscond from 
justice. 

If any one circumstance coald add to the painfulness 
of Jovellanos' situation, it was that, while the thought- 
lessness or the ingratitude of his countrymen thus in- 
volved him in a suspicion of peculation, the state of his 
finances was such as to have obliged him to accept the 
sum of little more than one hundred pounds, the savings 
of many year's service, which his trusty valet pressed 
upon him, with tears, that he might defray the expenses 
of their removal from Seville. 

After being almost wrecked on the coast of Galicia, 
Jovellanos was obliged to land at the small town of 
Muros, Here he had to endure a fresh insult from the 
petty Junta of that province, by whose orders his papers 
were minutely searched, and copies taken at the option 



NOTES* 



431 



of an officer sent for that purpose with a military de- 
tachment. 

A temporary retreat of the French from Gijon enabled 
Jovellanos to revisit his native town ; but an unexpected 
return of the invaders obliged him soon after to take 
ship with the utmost precipitation, His flight was so 
sudden that he was actually at sea without having deter- 
mined upon a place of refuge, Had the venerable and 
unhappy fugitive listened to the repeated invitations 
which his intimate friend Lord Holland sent him after 
the first appearance of danger from the progress of the 
French, his life might have been prolonged under the 
hospitable roof of Holland House. But Jovellanos's no- 
tions of public duty were too exalted and romantic : and 
he would not quit Spain while there was a single spot in 
the possession of her patriots. 

In attempting to reach by sea the port of Ribadeo, 
where there lay a Spanish frigate, in which he hoped to 
find a passage to Cadiz, another storm kept him for eight 
days under the peculiar hardships of a dangerous na- 
vigation in a small and crowded ship. Exhausted both 
in body and mind, and with a heart almost broken by 
the ill-treatment he had met with at the close of a lono- 
life spent in the service of his country, he landed at 
Vega, where, the poverty of the town offering no better 
accommodations, he was placed in the same room with 
Valdes Llanos, an old friend and relation, who had 
joined him in the flight, and seemed so shattered bv age 
and fatigue, as not to be able to survive the effects of the 
late storm. Here Jovellanos employed his remaining 
strength in nursing and comforting his fellow-sufferer, 
till, Valdes being near his end, his friend was, according 
to the notions of the country, removed to another room. 
But death had also laid his hand on Jovellanos. Two 



432 



NOTES. 



days after completing his sixty-sixth year, he was laid 
in the same grave with his friend,* 

* In the Appendix No. 2, to Lord Holland's Life of Lope de Vega 
are found both the originals and translations of some eloquent pas- 
sages from Jovellanos's pen, to which I have made an allusion in 
this note. His portrait also, from a marble bust executed at Seville 
by Don Angel Monasterio, at his lordship's desire, and now in his 
possession, is prefixed to the second volume of the same work. 



THE END. 



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